


I Find Myself By The Sea

by alienharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Neighbors, Sexual Tension, Top Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienharry/pseuds/alienharry
Summary: “My window faces his living room, and he doesn’t close his curtains, okay?” Liam defends himself. It doesn’t have the desired effect of shutting Louis up, just gives him more questions.“And you can’t close yours?”That makes Liam pause. As much as he wants to say he’d considered that, he hadn’t. But now that he is, he can’t see himself doing it. Call him a glutton for punishment, but watching Zayn in his tight boxers is definitely worth occasionally seeing him on top of another man.“I like to wake up with the sun,” he says, aware that it’s a weak excuse. “You know that.”Louis sees right through him, grinning slowly at the shame staining Liam’s face. “You’re a filthy pervert.”-After moving into his new apartment, Liam realizes that his neighbor never closes his curtains.





	I Find Myself By The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _VCR_ by The xx

Liam’s always considered himself a bit of a minimalist. It’s not that he doesn’t own  _ anything _ , it’s just that he doesn’t own anything he doesn’t  _ need _ . He’s never felt a desire to have silly knick-knacks adorning every surface of his home, or throw pillows for his double-seater sofa. It’s unnecessary bullshit, and Liam refuses to spend his money on such useless things. Hell, he doesn’t even own a television. 

Saying that, Liam has no clue how he ended up needing an entire moving van to bring all of his belongings the fifteen miles he moved into the city. 

It should have been an easy job. Just him, a Saturday, and his SUV driving what little he owns into the city. Maybe it would’ve been two trips, but even so. It was supposed to be simple and quick, and Liam should have been in his newly made bed about three hours ago. 

Which is why it’s so damn frustrating that he’s in the back of the moving van trying to unload his drum kit as his best friend and coworker, Louis, carries the endless supply of boxes up the stairs. There’s no explanation for how he acquired so many personal belongings, but Liam’s dealing with it. 

As best as he can, at least. 

He’s been trying to delicately maneuver one of the toms of his drum kit out from the back of the truck with immense difficulty when suddenly a voice is echoing around the metal interior of the vehicle. 

“You just moving in then?”

With a small jump, Liam looks up to see a man standing at the end of the truck bed. He has soft black hair that’s curling at the very end and he’s drowning in a sweater that looks a size too big. Liam isn’t much of a cuddler, but he wants to wrap this man in a blanket and listen to him tell stories about his day. 

“I am, yeah,” Liam says, letting a laugh run through his voice. It feels nice, letting some of the frustration drain from his body. “Trying to, at least,” he adds when the bottom of his tom gets caught between two boxes. 

The man at the end of the truck smiles, his eyes crinkling, somehow softening even further. Liam kind of wants to fall to his knees. “I hope you don’t plan on keeping the whole building up all night playing that.”

It’s something that would seem snide from anyone else, but the man looks like a fucking vision, and Liam can’t do anything but laugh, teasing alongside him. “I just might.”

“It’s a good thing I’m one over then, isn’t it?” He points to the building standing perpendicular to the one Liam’s moving into. 

“I’ll have to play a little harder to make sure you’ll hear it then, I suppose.”

The man laughs and shakes his head, and Liam takes the moment to climb out of the truck and stand in front of him. Liam’s a bit taller than him, not by much, but his squishy cheeks and fuzzy sweater make the man seem much smaller. 

“I’m Zayn,” his neighbor reaches a hand out, and Liam shakes it. Zayn’s hands are big, but Liam’s basically dwarf them, and it instills an electrifying pleasure in him. 

“Liam.” 

When they let go of each other, Zayn’s cheeks are slightly red. He clears his throat before speaking. “Are you new to the city then?”

“Kind of,” Liam shrugs. “I lived just outside of town, but the commute was too long. Figured it’d be smart to move closer.”

“So you’re not looking for someone to show you around then, I guess?”

Liam can feel himself grinning, a tilt to it at the implication. “Well if someone were to offer, I don’t think I’d say no.” He goes to lean against where his cymbal is resting, but the stand is too thin to hold him up, so he stumbles a bit and catches it before they both go crashing to the ground. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when Zayn laughs, the sound dancing around Liam’s ears. 

“You’re so smooth.” He’s clearly being sarcastic, but it’s soft and warm, and Liam wants to keep making him laugh again and again. 

He doesn’t get the opportunity to, though. Suddenly the sound of the glass door to his building unlatching is heard and Louis' voice is echoing across the courtyard. 

“What’s the fucking hold up, Li? I don’t want to be here all night. Let’s - ” He stops halfway through his sentence, when he takes notice of Zayn, to smirk. Liam groans internally, praying that his friend decides not to be a total dick about this. “Well, who’s this?” 

“I’m, uh.” Zayn looks between the two of them awkwardly. “I’m Zayn. I live a building over.” He points again, but Louis doesn’t follow his finger; instead choosing to keep grinning at the man. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Louis, Liam’s seemingly platonic coworker.” Liam wants to punch Louis in the face when Zayn’s face gets a bit red and he starts distancing himself from the truck. 

“I should leave you to your moving. It was nice to meet you, Louis.” He sticks his hand out to shake Louis', pulling back quickly. “Liam.” Liam shakes his hand again, and considers it a small victory when Zayn holds on just a moment too long. “I’ll see you around.”

He turns and walks towards his building, Liam watching the entire time. The moment the glass doors close, he’s turning and punching a laughing Louis' arm. “You’re a dick.” 

“Yeah, and?”

⇆

Later that night, long after Louis' gone home and abandoned him with twenty unpacked boxes and no structural plan to organize his furniture, Liam heads into his bedroom to make his bed. He’s given up completely on unpacking, figuring it’ll have to wait for another day when’s he’s not exhausted from just looking at the stacks of cardboard. 

It’s dark in the room, his overhead light lacking a bulb - and his extras are packed up somewhere in another room - so he opens his curtains to let some of the moonlight in. He also likes the idea of waking up with the sun, so he won’t be in too much of a rush to find an extra bulb. 

As he’s throwing the comforter atop his fitted sheet, he looks out his window as sees an entire living room, glass windows giving him an extremely intimate view of his neighbor’s home, and no blinds to obstruct it. There’s a man on the couch, leaning forward and - 

_ Oh _ . That’s Zayn. 

On the other side of the courtyard, only a sidewalk and some grass between them, is  _ Zayn _ . He looks just as soft and sweet as he did downstairs just a few hours before, only now he’s wearing flannel sweats and no shirt and Liam just wants to feel his skin against his own. 

It seems that he’s cleaning off his coffee table, organizing the small array of papers stretched across the surface. The television is casting a glow on him until he lifts a remote off the table and turns it off. After a moment, he stands up and looks out his window. Liam smiles and waves, but Zayn must not be able to see him because he only stretches, walking right past where Liam is trying to make himself seen, and turns his light off. 

It must be a trick of the light or the dark nature of his window, but he’s completely invisible - able to look into Zayn’s home when the favor can’t be returned. It’s odd, sure, but not too big of a deal. 

In the end, he’s only the slightest bit sad he didn’t get to see Zayn smile at him again. 

⇆

The next day, as Liam’s getting out of the shower, still damp with only a towel around his waist, he notices Zayn in his living room again. He appears to be sorting through his mail, reacting slightly to each new one he inspects. He’s placing them one by one on the side table against the large windows, and Liam finds himself oddly interested in watching. 

Suddenly, Zayn’s throwing everything on the table with a shake of the head. Liam would think him angry, but there’s a smirk on his face and his upper body is shaking in laughter. He walks out of the room from there, and Liam’s left to assume that there must’ve been something daunting in his mail. 

⇆

Liam wakes up the next morning to the spectacularly intoxicating view of Zayn in his boxers, drinking a coffee, and walking the perimeter of his living room slowly. There’s a news report on his television it appears, but Zayn’s only listening. Liam watches, hypnotized. He finds himself incredibly taken by how fucking  _ pert _ Zayn’s ass is. The pants he’s been wearing just don’t do him justice. 

When Liam's alarm goes off and he has to get ready for work, he feels incredibly upset to be torn from the great view. 

⇆

“Liam!” 

Liam’s getting back from his morning jog when he sees his neighbor waving him down on the sidewalk. They’re a bit down the road from the apartments, and Zayn looks to be wearing a uniform, so Liam guesses he’s going to the bus stop on his way to work. 

“Zayn, hey!” 

Suddenly, Liam feels a bit self-conscious. Zayn looks professional and clean, and Liam’s positively drenched in sweat. It’s a warm morning, and he’s just ran a mile, but he still feels exposed in his damp clothing. 

He takes his earbuds out and wraps them around his neck so they don’t fall. Zayn walks up to him, Liam too busy catching his breath to meet him halfway. As he’s wiping the sweat from his brow, he’s certain he sees the other man’s eyes drifting down his body, and instantly he feels himself standing up a bit taller at the possibility that he was being checked out.

“What’re you doing up so early?” he asks. Zayn smiles, grabbing the corner of the tag on his shirt that says “ **Zayn :)** ” with a puppy sticker on it. Liam wants to wrap him in his arms and never let him go. “You’re either going to work, or you have a strange sense of fashion.” 

“Oh, I have great style,” Zayn insists, no hesitation in his voice. 

Liam's hums, eyebrows furrowed in mock-doubt. Zayn laughs quietly at the look. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen anything exceptional yet.”

“You’ve hardly seen me in anything.” 

“Or out of anything,” Liam teases, letting his confidence take over. 

Zayn opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. His face is red and then he laughs, shaking his head letting his eyes fall to the sidewalk. “I should… The bus will be here soon.” Liam’s smile drops but then it’s back on his face before Zayn looks back up. 

“Don’t want to miss it, right?” he teases, hoping the smile on his face masks his worries that he’s come on too strong. 

Zayn shakes his head. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’m always around.” At Liam’s goodbye, Zayn smiles and heads off. Liam lets him go, doing his best not to check out Zayn’s ass as he goes, now that he knows how fucking perky it is. 

One of these days, Liam likes to hope he’ll end a conversation properly. 

⇆

Later, when Zayn gets home from work, Liam’s in bed sorting through sheet music. He doesn’t pay much mind as Zayn paces his living room, but when he suddenly stops and stares determinedly at the phone in his hand, Liam’s attention is caught. 

There’s a struggle in Zayn’s head, he’s mouthing things to himself and hitting himself in the head, before he’s clicking buttons and holding the device to his ear. After he hangs up, Zayn takes off into the apartment, and Liam doesn’t seem him again until later. 

When he does make a reappearance, he’s stripped of his uniform and now wearing sweatpants that hang deliciously low on his hips. Liam can’t help but wonder why pictures of him aren’t hanging in art shows across the world. He’s a fucking  _ vision _ . 

Zayn goes straight for the front door and throws it open. Before Liam can understand what’s happening, or even see anything, Zayn’s pulling his visitor in for a kiss. They’re mostly shadows because it’s dark in Zayn’s apartment, and they quickly take off for the bedroom. 

Liam doesn’t really see much of anything at all, but his heart is in his stomach. 

⇆

At work the next day, during his free period, Liam hangs out in Louis' office. Or really, Liam  _ mopes _ in Louis' office.

A few months back while Louis was using the bathroom during lunch, Liam nabbed a spare key from the ring carelessly left on the table, and he sometimes uses his friend’s office as a place to feel sad. It’s bright and colorful and somehow always makes him feel worse. 

He’s sitting at Louis' desk, his head in his arms when the door suddenly opens. He looks up to see Louis looking at him, brow quirked in confusion. “Why are you in my office?” he wonders. “How did you even get in here?”

It’s been months and he’s never been caught before, so this week is starting to feel like a giant failure. 

“I think Zayn has a boyfriend,” Liam grouses. He feels like he’s done nothing but sulk all day, but he can’t seem to stop himself. 

“Who’s Zayn?” Louis asks before shaking his head. “No, how did you get in here?”

“My neighbor,” Liam addresses the first question only, that’s the most important part. “The one across the courtyard.” 

“The one that looks like a puppy?”

He’d never realized it before but  _ fuck _ . Liam groans pathetically, dropping his head back down. “He  _ does _ look like a puppy.” Instead of being a good best friend and consoling a broken and depressed Liam, Louis just laughs before walking over to the cabinets behind him. 

“What makes you think he has a boyfriend?” There’s no actual interest in his voice, but Liam still appreciates the attempt. 

“Last night some guy came over and they started kissing.” He thinks he can actually feel his heart breaking in his chest as he retells last night’s discovery to Louis. “Then they disappeared into the bedroom. I just watched.”

Liam’s miserable, and he knows he sounds pathetic, but all Louis does is stand tensely, looking confused. “Did he fuck his boyfriend while you were over?”

“What? No.”

“Then how do you know he had a boyfriend over?” Louis asks and Liam turns red when he realizes he just gave himself away. He curses himself for letting too much information spill. 

“I didn’t,” he stutters, “I was just - ”

“Liam  _ Payne _ , you peeping tom.” There’s a crash from the other room, cutting Louis off and he groans, eyes closing at the noise. “Hold that thought, you voyeuristic freak. I want to hear all about this later.” 

Louis races off to the classroom holding a basket full of chalk in his arms and Liam throws his head against the desk. He spends the rest of his free period in Louis' office whining to himself about his misfortune and how he deserves better than the shit the universe likes to throw at him. 

He has a terrible rest of the day, and doesn’t even stay to clean up his classroom - that’s a problem for Morning Liam. He goes home and collapses into bed, not even sparing a glance across the window. It’ll all be fine in the morning. 

Everything is  _ fine _ . 

⇆

Things are fine until they aren’t. 

When Liam first learned how to play the drums, he had dreams of being in a rock band. It didn’t work out, but he wasn’t disappointed when he found out he could still have a career in music - teaching it. 

Even so, Liam rarely touches his drum kit. He didn’t have it in his dorm at university, so it faded out from his daily schedule. He only really ever plays it when he’s strung out, needing a method to release his frustration that differs from his usual routine. Today is that day. 

He spends a solid hour or so drumming along to the music in his earbuds. It’s a playlist of some of the more percussion-heavy songs he likes, and it’s a great way to let off steam. He feels himself getting more aggressive than usual, sweating until his entire shirt is drenched, sticking to his body and weighing him down. 

The playlist ends and Liam throws his drumsticks across the room with a grunt. He feels exhausted in the best way possible - a relief he hasn’t felt since first meeting Zayn. 

He walks into his room, stripping himself of his damp shirt along the way, grinning at the newfound looseness in his bones. He manages to look up just as Zayn’s walking into his apartment from what was most likely the laundry room. He looks up, and something must catch him off guard because he’s suddenly falling forward, the clothes in his laundry basket flying across the floor. 

Liam lets himself laugh gently at that, feeling a bit better about everything from his drumming. Zayn frowns down at the clothing, before kneeling to clean it up. As he pouts, Liam’s struck with how much he really  _ does  _ look like a puppy. 

He cleans up his room a bit, figuring he, too, could do some laundry soon. He’s sorting through the mail on his side table when he realizes he needs to check today’s and heads outside. He doesn’t remember he’s still shirtless until he feels the breeze hit his still somewhat damp skin. 

On his way back in, he bumps into a body, a man - tall, and pretty in a way that Liam can appreciate without being outright into him. They both laugh awkwardly, muttered apologies falling from their lips, and then head their separate ways. He thinks nothing of it until he’s in his room again, sorting through his mail, only to see the same guy from downstairs coming through Zayn’s front door. 

He looks bit awkward, and Liam wonders if he accidentally has the wrong address, but then Zayn kisses him, and Liam realizes - 

_ This _ is Zayn’s boyfriend. 

The two of them fall into the couch together, bodies intertwined. Feeling invasive, Liam only lets himself watch for a moment, only until Zayn’s shirt comes off, and then he takes off for a shower, willing himself not to get worked up again. Not after it took so long to work off the tension. 

He stays in as long as he can, until he’s pruney and the water runs cold. As he’s coming out, he spares a glance across the courtyard and immediately regrets it. 

Zayn is naked on his couch, completely visible for Liam to see, riding the guy from downstairs. There’s a crease in his brow and his muscles are locked tightly. Liam can’t stop looking. Every time he tries to, his body won’t listen to his mind, too caught up on the apparent frustration painted on Zayn’s face. Eventually, he makes himself lie in bed, facing away from the window, clenching his hands as he wills himself not to get any harder. 

But he can’t stop thinking about how dissatisfied Zayn looked, nails digging into the guy’s shoulders, as he glared at the ceiling. Liam wants to know what was on his mind. 

He wants to make it better. 

⇆

At school on Monday, he’s eating lunch in the teacher’s lounge when Louis wanders in. He’s got a glint in his eye that has Liam already groaning. It’s only eleven in the morning, but he’s already so fucking done with this day. 

“ _ Thomas _ Liam Payne, how are you doing?” 

The joke doesn’t sink in immediately, and Liam’s left staring at him, eyebrow raised in confusion, until Louis' smirk starts to make sense with the last time they spoke to each other. “I’m not a peeping tom.” 

“And I’m not the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen,” he returns, looking far too smarmy about his jokes. Liam rolls his eyes, wishing he had the power to make unwanted nuisances disappear. “We can both lie to make you feel better, but I think you’ll find I’m much less annoying when we’re honest.” 

There’s no doubt in his mind that Louis' going to milk this situation for all the potential jokes that it has, and Liam will be damned if just sits back and lets that happen. 

“My window faces his living room, and he doesn’t close his curtains, okay?” he defends himself. It doesn’t have the desired effect of shutting Louis up, just gives him more questions. 

“And you can’t close yours?”

That makes Liam pause. As much as he wants to say he’d considered that, he hadn’t. But now that he is, he can’t see himself doing it. Call him a glutton for punishment, but watching Zayn in his tight boxers is definitely worth occasionally seeing him on top of another man. 

“I like to wake up with the sun,” he says, aware that it’s a weak excuse. “You know that.” 

Louis sees right through him, grinning slowly at the shame staining Liam’s face. “You’re a filthy pervert.” 

When the choir teacher looks over with wide eyes, lips parted in shock, Liam smacks Louis’ shoulder a few times. “Stop saying that!”

“It’s true, mate!” Louis' laughing as he leans away from Liam’s assaulting hands. “You can’t get mad at me just because you like to watch your puppy of a neighbor.” He leans too far out of reach, so Liam stops swinging and frowns down at his bag of grapes. “Although, it’s not too bad if you think about it. A bit ‘ _ Shelter Island _ ’ if you ask me, but at least it’s not his bedroom.” 

Louis shrugs, picking up his fork and taking a bite of his food, but Liam stays silent, stays still. Technically the statement wasn’t wrong - he can’t see Zayn’s bedroom. Though, maybe it’d be a more convincing argument if Zayn didn’t use his couch as saddle to ride his boyfriend on. 

When the silence carries on too long, Louis looks up, mid-bite, with narrowed eyes. “Can you see - ”

“No, of course not!” He yells back, cutting off whatever question Louis was going to ask. It doesn’t end there, though, Louis maintaining his calculating look. 

“Why are you being weird?” He asks. When Liam doesn’t answer, he persists, “Why do you look guilty? How did you get into my office the other day?” 

“I didn’t lie,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “I can only see his living room.”

“Then why do you look guilty? Answer the question.”

For a moment, Liam considers running - just sweeping his paper bag from the table and taking off for his office (Louis doesn’t have a key for it) - but then he considers the logistics of spending the rest of his life avoiding Louis' inquisitive eyes. It’d be more fun than revealing just how fucking creepy Liam really is, but it’s not practical in the long run. Worth considering, definitely, but not worth attempting. 

Especially when Liam realizes he doesn’t actually have any other friends. 

“I can only see his living room,” he begins. Louis opens his mouth to interrupt, but closes it immediately when Liam continues, “ _ But _ , he and his boyfriend may have fucked on the couch.” Louis' mouth drops at the confession. “And I may have watched some of it.”

As expected, Louis laughs, but it’s only once, and the noise is aborted halfway through. “I thought I was joking when I called you a pervert, but - ”

“The second his friend came over I took a shower - ”

“I bet you did,” Louis taunts, not even grinning with it.

Liam’s face is red, and he’s putting most of his energy into willing the floor to open him up and swallow him whole. “But when I got back Zayn was riding him on the couch, and his face was - He just…” He trails off, mind clouding over with thoughts of how frustrated Zayn looked. “I couldn’t look away.” 

“Because you’re a pervert.”

“Louis - ”

“Oh my god,” Louis cuts him off, hands suddenly in his hair and then rubbing down his cheeks. “I’m going to have to find new friends. First it’s just watching, but then you’re going to follow him everywhere. You’ll kidnap his boyfriend - wear his skin as a coat. You’re going to  _ jail _ , Liam.”

It’s a shock that Louis teaches painting and sculpting and whatever else they do in that chemical-soaked room instead of Theater. He’s the most unnecessarily dramatic person Liam knows, and the fact that he isn’t profiting off of it should be a crime. 

“I haven’t done anything illegal,” he points out. 

“Not  _ yet _ .” 

Liam rolls his eyes. He just wanted to eat his damn grapes before he has to go listen to the freshmen do their scales test. “I’m not going to do anything crazy. I won’t watch him anymore.” Louis glares at him, so he insists, “I  _ won’t _ .”

He clearly doesn’t believe Liam, it’s written all over his face, but he moves past it, and Liam breathes a sigh of relief. 

Until. 

“So how did he look?”

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “ _ Really _ good.”

Louis laughs at him, but leaves him alone about Zayn for the rest of lunch. Sure, he moves on to ramble about how one of his students keeps turning in pictures of an algebra teacher’s face, and how it’d be creepy if she wasn’t so goddamn talented, but it’s a better topic than Liam’s new ‘hobby’. 

A few minutes before the bell rings, the principal wanders in and points to the bulletin board where there’s a sign up sheet pinned - only four lines scribbled in - for the upcoming career fair. They need chaperons and they’re desperate. 

“So are you signing up?” Louis asks as soon as their boss walks out of the lounge. 

Even though he’s well aware it wasn’t a joke, Liam can’t help but laugh in his face. “Definitely not.” 

“They’re giving us an extra sick day, though.”

“Which you’ll need to take immediately when you get a week long migraine from the sheer volume of the kids,” Liam argues. Louis frowns, and, not wanting to be a complete dick, Liam expands. “I did it two years ago, and even to this day, it’s the worst day I’ve ever had at work.”

Still frowning, Louis huffs. “I signed up to help out.” 

“That’s tragic,” Liam says, void of any emotion, which Louis glares at. “I’ll write out your obituary.” 

“And I’ll write out your plea bargain for when they charge you with stalking and scalping.” At Louis' sharp tongue, Liam throws a grape, which just nearly lands in Louis' mouth, hitting the edge and bouncing away. “That was so close, man.”

“That would’ve been awesome.”

The bell rings and Liam stands to leave, but Louis stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Wait, throw another before you go.” Liam throws two at the same time and neither go in his mouth; instead, one hits his nose and the other bounces just shy of his eye. “You’re no fun.” 

⇆

After work, which was a long and utterly draining, Liam has to stay back to clean up the mess of sheet music covering every inch of his office. It takes a few hours, and even then, he still has a few files to organize, but he’s sick of the cold and lifeless air in his office, so he takes them home, figuring he can sort through everything after giving himself some time to unwind. 

Just before he makes it to his door, he notices a person curled up on the front steps of the building next to him. It doesn’t take long to recognize it as Zayn. Without even thinking about it, Liam, with his arms stacked high with sheet music, skips his own entrance and approaches the glum looking man. 

He really  _ does _ look like a puppy. 

“Zayn?” Liam asks, his voice hesitant and low so as not to spook him. “You alright?” 

Zayn looks up, his brown eyes lacking their usual shine, but he smiles when he takes note of Liam. Though it’s not as bright as it usually is. “Liam, hi. How are you?” 

“I’m fine.” Liam feels himself frowning at Zayn’s casual avoidance of the question. “How are  _ you _ ?” He kicks his toe gently against the heel of Zayn’s boot. 

“I’m okay,” Zayn sighs, his entire body rising and falling with it. “Left my keys at work, so now I’m locked out.” 

“Do you have a spare, or are you waiting for a coworker?”

“My sister has my spare,” he says, “but she doesn’t get off work until seven. I don’t want to take the bus back to work, so I’m just waiting.” 

Liam contemplates asking if Zayn would like a ride to his work, just to help him out and get him home faster, but he’s selfish and Zayn looks incredibly cuddly right now, and Liam’s never been a strong person when it comes to pretty boys. “If you’d like, you can come wait at my place?”

“Oh.” Zayn’s eyes drift down to the stack of papers resting in Liam’s arms. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way.” 

“You wouldn’t be,” Liam insists. He does his best to make it look like the papers aren’t weighing him down a bit. “This is just sheet music I have to organize. Figured I’d rather do it at home on my bed than in the back office.” 

“Sheet music?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Liam laughs, the sound coming out a bit awkwardly. “I’m a band teacher at the high school. Sheet music is my drug of choice, I guess you could say.” 

Zayn grins, eyes flickering over Liam’s face briefly before shaking his head. “I can’t imagine you being a teacher.”

“I’m a  _ great _ teacher,” Liam finds himself biting. He means for it to sound angry, but the grin on his face gives him away. “I’ll have you know. I’m cool Mr. Payne. My students love me.” 

“You look so young,” Zayn challenges. “Do they even take you seriously?” 

It’s hard not to full on laugh at Zayn’s insults, but he manages to keep himself down to just a smile. “Now I’m getting offended.” There’s no rebuttal, Zayn just smiles. Liam takes the opportunity to flick his head towards his building. “Come on. My place is warm.” 

“It’s not like it’s too cold outside.”

“ _ Zayn, _ ” he whines. “Let’s go. I won’t take no for an answer.”

There’s a moment where it looks like Zayn’s going to argue, but instead sighs, rising to his feet, standing just a few inches taller than Liam, but always looking so tiny. “I didn’t know you could be so assertive.” Liam bites his lip and turns to lead the way. Zayn has no idea just how authoritative Liam can be, but one day, hopefully, if that’s something he’s into, Liam wants to take his time and show him. 

They make their way to Liam’s building, Zayn holding the glass door open for him, and they climb the stairs. It’s not until Liam reaches his door that he realizes there’s an issue between his papers and his keys. 

“Do me a favor?” 

He’s sticking his hip out and Zayn shakes his head when he figures out what Liam’s asking. He reaches over and grabs Liam’s keys from his belt loop, and if his fingers graze a little more left than necessary, neither of them say anything about it. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, following Liam in. 

As Liam makes his way inside, he hears the door close. He sets his papers down on his dining room table, and behind him, Zayn asks, “So am I ever going to get to see you bang?” 

There’s a heart-stopping, fear-induced moment that has Liam thinking he’s been caught, that Zayn knows he’s watched the sexual escapades that occur across the courtyard. But then he turns around to see Zayn air drumming and Liam grins - barely there but drenched in relief. 

“Probably,” Liam answers. “Eventually. I jog a lot, do yoga, sometimes I lift. So when I need to relieve stress in a different way, I take it out on the drums.” 

“And you’re not stressed enough to drum right now?” 

It’s a loaded question, really. Liam’s  _ always _ stressed when it comes to Zayn, and if he could, he’d show Zayn just how stressed he can get. 

As it stands, now isn’t the time. He wants to get to know Zayn before he starts playing for him. 

“Not quite,” he chuckles. Zayn frowns at that, and Liam wants to kiss his stupid pouty lips. “Besides, I don’t want to do it too often. Nobody’s complained about my playing yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.” 

“I’ll just have to be patient then, I suppose.”

“I suppose you will,” he agrees. It’s then that Liam takes notice of Zayn’s attire - his uniform - and uses it as an opportunity to learn more about his neighbor. “So what is it that you do?” Zayn quirks an eyebrow, and Liam gestures to his name tag, the puppy sticker still smiling back at him. “For work.” 

Zayn’s eyes follow Liam’s line of sight, a soft sweet smile dancing across his lips when he sees the tag. “I work at the animal shelter.” 

“ _ Really _ ?”

He doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasnt that. 

“Yeah.” His soft grin grows, and it’s just as breathtaking as the first time Liam saw it. “The complex doesn’t let us have pets, so this is how I get my fill of them.” 

“You like animals?” Liam asks. 

There’s a spark in Zayn’s brown eyes, one Liam wants to see every day for the rest of his life. “I love them,” he sighs. “A little too much, my boss might say. I sometimes forget I have an actual job and just play with the kittens for a few hours.”

And Liam fucking melts. He’s never been very into animals, never had any pets to steal his heart, but knowing that Zayn’s lost in his love just makes him so much more perfect in Liam’s eyes. “If you could have a pet, what do you think you’d want?”

“A dog, definitely,” Zayn answers with a laugh. “Not sure what breed, I don’t think it’d matter, but I’ve always felt like I needed a puppy.”

At first, Liam bites his tongue against the thought running through his head, but Zayn’s looking at him, eyes curious and kind and drawing Liam in like the lovefool he is, and he can’t stop himself from talking. “You kind of look like a puppy.” 

It’s not the reaction Liam expected, but when Zayn’s face positively  _ flames _ , his eyes falling to the floor as a bashful smile takes over, Liam can’t complain. It was just a throwaway comment, something that’s just been on his mind, but seeing such a strong reaction lights a spark under Liam’s skin. 

Zayn releases his bottom lip from where his teeth were wearing it down. “Let’s talk about something else.” Liam smiles when he still won’t meet his eyes. 

“Sure thing, pup.” At the nickname, Zayn makes a small little noise and Liam feels fucking powerful. “Do you want to help me sort some music?” Zayn just nods, still staring at the floor, but Liam doesn’t mind the slight disconnect, not after he feels like he’s just discovered something important. 

For the next hour, Zayn does his best to help Liam organize his files. Eventually, after he’s calmed down from the ‘puppy’ of it all, he begins to open up, discussing his taste in music with Liam. They have a lot in common - because of  _ course _ they do - and time goes by much faster than either of them want. 

When he’s alone - or with his boyfriend - in his living room, Zayn’s every bit Liam’s wet dream. As hot as that is, though, he can’t help but prefer his neighbor like this, soft and warm and a cuddly puppy. 

When Zayn’s sister comes with the spare, he leaves with a hug and Liam feels more at ease than any drumming can ever make him feel. 

He feels guilty later as he watches Zayn come home, smiling to himself as he strips his shirt at the front door and makes his way to his room. On the brightside, there’s no sign of his boyfriend in sight, and Liam considers that a win. 

⇆

The next time Zayn’s boyfriend comes over, Liam’s in his room, on his bed, trying to make the setlist for an upcoming recital. Louis' sitting across from him, a sketch in front of him of how he wants the displays at the art fair to look. It’s simple work, but it takes some time and consideration, and Liam hasn’t really seen Louis outside of work lately so this is the perfect time. 

Zayn comes home alone, and Louis' the first to notice as he’s facing where the front door would be. “Your neighbor’s home.” Liam looks up quickly, his back cracking at the speed at which he sits up, and Louis laughs. “You’re pathetic. You know that, right?”

“I’m not.”

“You  _ are _ ,” he insists, making Liam roll his eyes. “You’re sitting here staring in your neighbor’s window, watching him hang his keys up and take off his shoes, just because you think he’s cute.”

Liam doesn’t like the way he said ‘ _ think _ ’ as though Zayn isn’t the most attractive person he’s ever seen in his entire goddamn life. “It’s more than just him being cute.”

“Is it, though?” Louis' long since abandoned his artwork, his sketchbook thrown haphazardly on the bed in front of him. He’s staring at Liam, green eyes inquisitive, searching his face for answers. “Have you ever had an actual conversation with him?” 

“He was actually over here the other day,” Liam grins smugly. It’s the first question Louis' asked in weeks that Liam can answer and feel good about. “We’ve had a  _ few _ conversations.” 

“Were any of them about your sick, voyeuristic tendencies?”All of Liam’s confidence disappears when Louis reminds him just how twisted his watching really is, so he ignores the question and watches as Zayn goes over to his side table and sorts through his mail. 

Louis just doesn’t understand what it’s like to meet someone and feel such an instant, electrifying connection. He’s never been so drawn to someone that he resorts to such tactics. Liam doesn’t tell him that, doesn’t want to be on the receiving end on his overdramatic pouts and pained eyes, but it’s the truth. At the end of the day, Liam knows his feelings are more than just attraction - he couldn’t stop watching Zayn if he tried. 

“And he can’t see you through the window?” Louis asks. 

“Not at all.” Liam watches as Zayn rips open an envelope, smiling at the card he finds inside. It makes Liam grin too. “I’ve waved to him, got no response. He’s fucked his friend twice now, and I’ve been right here watching.” Louis laughs. “Not like that. I just happened to glance over and - ”

“Oh, you just  _ happened _ to, huh?” 

Liam raises his middle finger, and instead of letting it end, Louis leans forward and hits Liam’s shoulder. Liam returns it, but he doesn’t know his own strength, and Louis almost falls off the bed, barely being saved by Liam’s quick reflexes, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back into a sitting position. They both laugh, relieved and nervous at the accident that almost was. 

Once he’s certain Louis' not going to slip off the bed and break his arm, he goes back to the sheet music in front of him. He looks up when he notices Louis doesn’t go back to his work, only to see him staring curiously at the window. 

“Are you positive he can’t see you?” he asks. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“He was looking over here and just started frowning,” Louis explains. 

Liam looks up, but Zayn’s still staring down at his mail. “Maybe it was his mail or something - ”

“Or his own reflection.” It’s said sarcastically, but Liam still agrees with a nod. Louis' lips thin at his easy acceptance of then joke. “How can he just  _ not _ see you? Your windows aren’t tinted or anything.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the way the sun hits the building or something,” Liam supplies him with the first thought he’d had when he realized Zayn couldn’t see him, but Louis looks uncertain. “Look, it’s been a month. If he can see me, but is just  _ choosing _ to ignore my waves and fuck his boyfriend in his living room - well, maybe I don’t care.”

“You do care though.”

He  _ does _ care, that’s the fucking problem of it all. He’s cares too much about Zayn and his boyfriend and the shit they get up to right in Liam’s fucking viewpoint. “He can’t see me. Let’s leave it at that.” 

“One day you’re going to go over to his house for milk or sugar or something and see your own bedroom clear as day,” Louis tells him.

“If that ever happens, it’ll be because I’m fingering him against  _ his _ window, and then I don’t think I’ll care that much.”

Louis laughs. “You’ve got high hopes, don’t you?”

“Or extraordinarily low ones,” Liam counters. Louis hums, and they both go back to their work. And if Louis tries to bring the topic up again, Liam just focuses more intently on the songs listed in front of him. 

As they’re finishing up their work, a streak runs past Zayn’s window and both Liam and Louis watch as he throws open his door, pulling his boyfriend in by front of his shirt. Immediately, Liam ushers Louis into the living room, not feeling comfortable with them  _ both _ watching the live-action porn that’s about to take place across the courtyard. 

They both plan their events sitting in front of the coffee table, neither addressing the situation going on. When they finish and Louis heads home, Liam makes his way to his bedroom. Zayn’s seeing his boyfriend out with a kiss on the cheek. 

But the moment the door is shut, Zayn looks angry, his fingers tangling in his own soft fringe tugging harshly. He heads out of the living room and Liam can’t help but wonder what happened in the hour he was gone. 

⇆

A few days later as Liam’s checking his mail, he sees Zayn walking towards him, something light blue under his arm. Liam can’t quite tell what it is, so he squints his eyes and looks harder. When Zayn notices Liam’s curious stare, he raises his free hand in a wave, “Hey there, neighbor,” and approaches him. 

“Zayn, hey.” Liam can’t help but smile. He’s getting easier at hiding his guilt for watching what happens in the privacy of Zayn’s openly visible living room. He can almost navigate through a conversation without looking like he’s culpable for invading his privacy. “What's that you've got?” 

Zayn looks down at his arms and a smile takes over his face. “Yoga mat.” 

And Liam’s heart beats fast because of  _ course _ the man he’s been lusting after and longing for is into the same things he is. It’s either fate or a or a cruel, cosmic joke. He tries not to let his excitement show on his face. “You’re into yoga?” 

“Not yet,” Zayn shrugs. “Figured I'd take it up, see if I'm cut out for it. I don't really have the hips for it. Not very bendy either, but - ”

“You may surprise yourself.”

Zayn grins, small lines forming by his eyes and making everything just  _ that _ much brighter. “Exactly.” If there’s ever a day Zayn doesn’t take his breath away, they’ll have to keep their eyes out for flying pigs and news reports of hell freezing over. “I hope I do, at least. I've been feeling really on edge lately.” Liam thinks back to the worried crease in his brow while he was fucking his friend, and how frustrated he looked just the other night after they finished. “Just so tightly wound.” 

His voice is husky, but he looks all soft and Liam just wants to give him a hug. Maybe give him some tea and ask him what’s bothering him. 

Then maybe let him ride him if that’ll help. 

“Well if you ever need any pointers, let me know,” Liam offers, swallowing the lump in his throat the forms at the thought of getting to be on the other side of Zayn’s window. “I used to have a yoga class every Tuesday and Thursday.” 

“Not anymore?”

Liam shrugs. “It’s hard to find the time for it.” 

“But you’d make time for me?” Zayn’s smiling softly. Liam would almost call it a smirk but he looks far too puppy-dog innocent for that. 

“Of course I would,” Liam says honestly, completely aware of how his sincerity makes him looks smitten. “Everyone needs a firm hand to guide them. At the beginning, I mean. Eventually you’ll get it on your own.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

And suddenly Liam doesn’t think Zayn’s as doe-eyed as he presents himself. Whether he’s aware of it or not, he’s playing a dangerous game with his coy looks and seemingly innocent comments. 

“You will,” Liam says, no room for questioning in his tone. “I'll make sure of it.” 

There’s a tense moment where nobody says anything, but then Zayn’s dropping his gaze, biting his lip, and gesturing towards his building. “I should be going in.” 

Liam resists the urge to sigh. It seems like every time he makes a comment, some kind of line to see if  _ perhaps _ Zayn’s not as naive and unaware as he seems, to see if maybe he’s into Liam, the other man slips away. It’s more than frustrating if Liam’s being completely honest. 

“Let me know how it works out,” he says in lieu of a goodbye, gesturing down to the yoga mat. “If you're bendy enough.” 

“You’ll be the first to know.” 

They part ways and Liam spends his afternoon in bed, watching Zayn in nothing but tight shorts, doing the worst yoga Liam’s ever seen. He doesn’t know if he can even call it yoga with the way the other man is just shoving his ass against his window. 

What upsets him the most is just how hot Liam finds it. 

⇆

When Liam wakes up the next morning, he nearly chokes when he looks across the courtyard to see Zayn completely fucking  _ naked _ . He’s walking around his house drinking what looks like coffee, not sparing a thought to the fact that his perfect body is on display and making Liam’s dick wake up at an alarming rate. 

Liam watches, motionless, as Zayn answers a phone call and then eats his breakfast. He does more of that terrible yoga, hypnotizing Liam with his body. 

It’s not until Liam’s phone is ringing and it’s Louis asking where he is that he realizes he’s going to be late for work. The bell rings in just a half an hour and supposedly there’s already a line of students waiting for him to unlock the door. 

He rushes to get ready, nearly hitting his head in the process and is ten minutes late to class. His students are sitting in the hallway looking bored when he gets in. 

“I know, I know,” he rushes to say, hands shaking as he tries to fit his key in the lock. “I’m late. Alarm didn’t wake me up, I’m sorry.”

The students make their way to their seats and Liam tries to start the lesson, but he can’t think about music when thoughts of Zayn’s perfectly shaped ass are invading every corner of his mind. He’s a distraction and Liam needs to put an end to it. 

⇆

He contemplates closing his curtains that night, wondering why he can’t do it. 

He’s a glutton for punishment and ends up spending two hours at his drum kit, incredibly frustrated at himself and at his addictive neighbor. He heads into his room afterwards, and immediately walks out when he sees Zayn stretched across his couch, hand lost in his underwear, television forgotten about in the background. 

Liam takes the coldest, most tense shower he’s ever had, and doesn’t enjoy a moment of it. 

⇆

Two nights later, as Liam’s looking through his lease, wondering if there’s a ‘Sexual Frustration Clause’ that’ll get him a discount on his rent or a year of free laundry or anything else to compensate him for his blue balls, Zayn’s boyfriend comes over and Liam’s eyes hurt with how hard he rolls them. He’s pretty fucking annoyed at this point. 

He does his best to keep his head down, to not let himself fall into the trap of being mesmerized just by the way Zayn moves his body, of the natural creases that form on his face when he’s fighting for release. He’s strong, and he knows he can keep his eyes down. 

And he does. 

At least, he does until there’s a harsh pounding that dully echoes across the courtyard about twenty minutes after Zayn and his boyfriend had started stripping each other. Liam’s jerked out of his trance and looks up to see Zayn’s hands pressed against the glass - body at an angle - with his boyfriend right behind him, thrusting into him. 

Forget about the ‘Sexual Frustration Clause’ - Liam needs to fucking  _ move _ . 

There’s the typical discontent painted on Zayn’s face, but from this angle, Liam can see that he’s hard, which means he doesn’t completely hate it. Even so, it doesn’t explain why he looks so stressed out. 

Suddenly, Zayn’s mouth is moving, lips forming around words that Liam can’t identify. At least, he can’t identify  _ most _ of them. After Zayn’s recited a small monologue, he’s repeating “please” over and over again and Liam can feel himself leaning forward, curious about what he’s asking for, what has his hands scratching against the streaked glass of his window. 

It’s all revealed when Zayn’s boyfriend rolls his eyes, lifts his hand, and  _ slams _ it down against Zayn’s ass one… two…  _ three _ consecutive times. His hand hasn’t even pulled back from the second hit before Zayn’s jaw is dropping and he’s cumming against the window in front of him, streaks of white decorating the glass, and Liam is shoving his hands down his sweatpants to grip his throbbing dick. 

It’s then that Liam realizes that Zayn doesn’t hate having sex, it’s that he gets off harder when he’s roughed up. The aggravation that was on his face when his boyfriend was fucking him wasn’t because he wasn’t enjoying himself, it was because he needed to pushed over the edge with a firm hand against his ass. It’s to that thought that Liam gets himself off, his fist in his mouth, biting down to feel something other than complete desperation. 

After his boyfriend leaves, parting with a kiss to the forehead and a shake of the head, Zayn is loose-limbed and lovely, curling up in a soft looking blanket on his couch and turning on a cartoon. 

As jealous and frustrated as Liam is, he’s more upset he isn’t over there cuddling Zayn. 

⇆

Louis' front door is unlocked and the sound of animated shooting is echoing throughout the house. It’s Saturday, and while Liam would like to be taking advantage of his day off to go to jogging or to browse for sheet music in the city, today he only wants to mope. 

There’s a video game on the television and Louis' sitting in front of it on the floor. He doesn’t look up when Liam comes in the room and falls face down on the couch. 

“‘Good morning, Louis,’” he mocks. “Oh, Liam,  _ hello _ . Good morning to you as well!” Liam groans; it’s the closest he can get to screaming with the cushion underneath him suffocating him. He hears the music to Louis' game pause. “What’s up?” Liam mumbles his complaint into the cushion. It’s silent for a moment but then Louis sighs. “You know I didn’t hear any of that.” 

Liam grunts and shifts his head so he’s looking at Louis. “Zayn fucked his boyfriend again.” 

“Well that’s something a lot of boyfriends do,” Louis tells him, shrugging with it. Liam frowns. “Is that all that’s bothering you? Can I go back to my game?”

“No.”

“No?” Louis repeats. Liam shakes his head. “Care to share?” 

Liam mumbles again but this time without to fabric as an excuse. Louis raises his eyebrows and Liam sighs as much as he enjoys being vague and playing stupid, he really needs to vent. “Zayn’s kinky.”

“I’m…” Louis trails off, blink once before he’s shaking his head. “Come again?” 

“He’s  _ kinky _ .” 

He doesn’t know what he expected after his announcement, but it definitely wasn’t for Louis to throw himself backwards in laughter. Liam groans and shoves his head back into the cushion.

“No, wait. I’m sorry for laughing,” Louis apologizes, reaching over to pull Liam’s face back out. “What do you mean he’s kinky?”

“I  _ mean _ ,” Liam huffs, “his boyfriend spanked him a few times and he painted his fucking window white.” 

The imagery is still so vivid in his head. It was undeniably the hottest thing he’d ever seen in real like, and even groaning about it to his best friend has his dick threatening to chub up on this ugly beige and green couch. 

Louis' eyes widen with the outburst, and then he’s laughing again. “And you watched?”

Liam rolls his eyes and pushes himself up. “You know, I didn’t come here to be laughed at.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just - ” A few giggles cut him off, and even Liam’s most severe stare can’t get him to stop. “Pardon me for being invasive, but isn’t that the kind of thing you  _ like _ ? Isn’t that why  _ we _ never tried things out?” 

“We never tried things because the day we met you threw up all over my shoes and then told me I was fat.” 

_ That _ stops Louis' laughter, having him sit up straighter, glaring at Liam. “I said you were  _ hefty _ , and there was a bug going around.” 

“You were a bug going - ”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” he cuts off Liam’s immature rebuttal. “What I was saying was that you’re into the whole pain and pleasure thing, right?” 

As true as that is, as  _ painfully _ true as it is, Liam splutters. He can feel his cheeks getting red at the accusation and immediately tries to deny it. “I am  _ not _ .”

“Aren’t you? I thought you said you liked being in charge.” Liam curses at Louis' question. He forgot he’s confided in his friend a time or twelve before. 

“I - I mean - ”

“So you  _ don’t _ want to spank your neighbor?” Louis asks, and Liam stays determinedly quiet. “Alright, so you  _ do _ .”

But it’s so much more than that. Of course he’d like to spank Zayn. Who wouldn’t? He’d also like to lay him out of the bed and spend hours eating him out until he cries. He wants to hold Zayn’s wrists down and keep him on the edge until he makes him cum untouched. But he also wants to spend the rest of his life telling his cheesy jokes and making him giggle.

“I just want to cuddle him,” Liam says, “and then have really rough sex and then cuddle him some more.” 

“That sounds like exactly what he’s into.” Louis' speaking in his teacher voice, something that he hardly even uses at his job - as a teacher - and it makes Liam feel small. “You should just march over to his place and assert your dominance.”

“I don’t have any claim to him. He’s got a boyfriend.” Liam frowns, the reality hitting him that even if Zayn wanted all the things that Liam wants - they can’t have that. 

Louis hums at that. “I don’t know what to tell you then. I guess you’ll just be miserable.” Liam's groans. “Like me.”

With a huff, Liam slams his hands down on the cushion in front of him. “He’s a kinky little puppy, and I just want to - ”

“I get it,” Louis bites, effectively cutting him off. “Stop thinking about him and grab a controller.”

Liam grabs a controller, but doesn’t stop thinking about Zayn. He  _ can’t _ stop thinking about him, about how peaceful he looked getting roughed up. It’s all he’s been able to think about for the past few days and it’s the only thing he’ll be able to think about for the rest of his miserable, lonely, celibate life. 

⇆

“Morning, Liam!” After watching Zayn get off to being spanked, it feels weird and wrong to see him in his pajamas, looking sleep soft and warm with a gentle smile on his little face. “What are you doing out this early?”

Liam takes him in and clenches his fist until he can feel his nails cutting into his palm. When they meet face to face, Zayn’s always so delicate, looking innocent and small, but Liam knows  _ just _ how filthy he is. 

“I, uh,” he stutters, feeling off balance just by the sight of his neighbor. “There’s a meeting before classes start. Why are you up? And in pajamas?” 

Completely oblivious to his rambling, Zayn smiles and lifts up a styrofoam cup. “Hot chocolate.” Liam groans internally just how sweet he is. “It’s unfortunate you’re heading out. We could’ve done something together.” 

“What is there to do this early?” 

“Maybe not this morning then,” Zayn shrugs. He’s still smiling, looking far too friendly for this early in the morning. “What about tonight? We could watch a movie? Have some beers?” he offers, voice tilting at the end. “It’s weird. I feel like we’re friends, and I’ve been to your place, but we’ve never really hung out. It’s like I only see you on the sidewalk.” 

It takes effort for Liam not to laugh bitterly. He’s seen a  _ lot _ more of Zayn than just on the sidewalk. “I try not to drink during the school week, but some other time, sure.” 

“When are you free next?” 

“I’m - ” Liam’s phone rings and he says a silent thank you for keeping him from having to answer the question and make a plan. “Hey, Lou,” he greets when he picks up. 

The other end of the line crackles and then Louis' tinny voice is coming through, “ _ You on your way? _ ” 

“Yeah, I’m leaving now,” he answers. “Can you grab me a coffee?”

“ _ What do I get out of it? _ ”

“Lou - ”

“ _ Fine, whatever. _ ” It’s almost like Liam can see him rolling his eyes through the phone. “ _ You’re buying me lunch today then. _ ” 

Liam bites his tongue against yelling. He sees Zayn watching, his lips thinned. Liam mouths an apology, but Zayn waves him off. 

“I’ll buy you a  _ drink _ , and that’s it,” Liam tells Louis. 

“ _ Or _ \- ”

“Oh my god.” As much as Liam loves Louis and his theatrics, Zayn’s standing in front of him, watching expectantly. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

“ _ Bye _ !”

Liam hangs up, rolling his eyes as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Sorry, that - ”

“It’s no big deal.” Zayn grins, easy as anything, and Liam’s torn between feeling guilty for being such a creep and wanting to pull Zayn in and never let him go. “You’ve got work to get to though.”

“I do, yeah.” Liam nods, frowning regretfully. “I’ll see you later?”

“I hope so.” Zayn leaves, still smiling, a slight blush on his cheeks, and Liam feels like the biggest prick on the planet. Seeing Zayn in such a vulnerable position makes him feel guilty. It makes him feel  _ awful _ . And the worst part of all? 

He wouldn’t hesitate to watch again. 

⇆

Liam’s getting back from a jog Saturday evening when he catches the tail end of Zayn’s boyfriend walking into the building. Liam’s torn between doing another half mile or going upstairs and watching. 

He feels filthy and disturbed as he eagerly takes the stairs two at a time. He gets to his room, keeping his lights off. He knows that they can’t see into his room regardless, but watching with the lights on adds an oddly twisted layer to the perverseness of his little hobby. 

They’re already stripping by the time Liam sits on his bed and faces the window, and he’s struck by just how  _ physical _ their relationship is. He’s never seen them just sit and talk, and for a moment, he’s hopeful that this is just hooking up, that there aren’t any feeling involved. 

But then a naked Zayn gets pushed against the window by his boyfriend, and the view completely wipes Liam’s mind. 

It all progresses as it usually does, Zayn’s boyfriend opening him up with quick fingers, Zayn looking like a goddamn pornstar as his heavy breathing fogs up the window. Liam sits back, hand wrapped loosely around his cock as he watches the show. When his boyfriend slides in, Zayn’s mouth drops and Liam has to tighten his grip. His mind is working to replace the boyfriend with himself, and he gets lost in the visual for a few minutes, imagining it’s him behind Zayn, hand pressed against the window as he thrusts into Zayn’s tight ass - 

Suddenly Zayn starts begging again. Liam can make out the “ _ please _ ”s that fall from his lips, can even catch onto some that he couldn’t identify last time like “hit me” and “do it.” Liam sits back, hand gripping tightly around his base as he waits for the hits to come. 

Only, they never do. 

Zayn’s boyfriend shakes his head, clearly saying “No” amongst some other things that Liam can’t read. At the denial, Zayn’s hand bangs on the window hard and it looks like he starts crying as he pulls on his own hair. He’s not getting his spanking, and he’s throwing a tantrum, doing whatever he can to get himself there. 

Liam gets off thinking about how he could give Zayn exactly what he wants. He’d never have to doubt that Liam wouldn’t break him apart in the best way possible - they’d be so  _ good _ together. 

It takes much longer for Zayn to cum this time around. He’s pulling his own hair, looking like he’s choking his dick with how tight he’s holding it, tugging at it with harsh strokes that  _ have _ to hurt. He looks miserable and tense and Liam just wants to be there. 

When he does cum, it’s with a tortured look on his face. There’s no looseness in his bones, the sex  _ clearly _ not helping him unwind. 

After his boyfriend finishes, he wipes the tears from Zayn’s red eyes, but Zayn just shakes his head, looking like he doesn’t want to be comforted. Even so, he lets himself be pulled into a hug. It’s sweet, but Liam can’t help but think he’d be better for Zayn in bed  _ and _ out of it. 

He cums thinking about Zayn’s tear stained face and how relaxed he looked when his boyfriend spanked him the week prior, and begins to think he  _ might _ have a bit of a problem. 

⇆

When the career fair starts up, Liam takes advantage of his student-free day to inventory the instruments in the back to make sure nobody’s taken one home without signing it out. 

He’s working his way through the woodwinds when his classroom door opens and Louis saunters in, falling theatrically on one of the amps in front of the lockers. Neither of them speak, Liam preoccupied with not losing the number he’s on, and Louis' most likely waiting to be asked what’s bothering him. 

Both of them end up disappointed when Louis has to speak first, therefore distracting Liam from his count. “Have you been down to the job fair yet?” 

“You know I haven’t.” There’s no doubt in Liam’s mind that Louis' regretting signing up as a chaperone. 

His thoughts are confirmed when Louis grumbles, “I shouldn’t have volunteered.” 

“Too noisy?” 

“No.” 

“Too crowded?” 

“No.” 

The conversation is leading nowhere, and Liam hasn’t even started on the brass instruments, so he doesn’t ask anymore questions; instead, letting the silence take over as he restarts his count. 

He gets halfway through when Louis sighs melodramatically and throws him off again. With a huff, Liam throws his clipboard to the side and spins around, his feet crossed at the ankle in front of him. “What is it then?” 

“I’m in love,” Louis all but cries. 

And that actually piques Liam’s interest. Louis' not really the type to bring his crushes up to Liam. He’s far more subtle when he likes someone because his romantic history isn’t the most blessed - his previous partners haven’t always been the most kind. 

Instead of jumping into everything and demanding information from Louis, Liam does his best to play it cool. “Yeah? What’s their name?”

“Union City Teller.” 

At first, it doesn’t sink in, the words sounding jumbled to Liam. But when he finally hears it, he can’t help but laugh. “One of the careers? Really?” Louis groans. “What was it you told me last week? Just stomp right over and assert your dominance?” 

“He's too pretty for that.” 

“Why don’t you tell him your name?” Liam suggests. “Maybe get his?”

Louis grunts, flipping himself onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “What if he doesn’t want to know? What if he doesn’t want  _ me _ ?” 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

“What if he isn’t queer?” Louis asks. 

It takes real effort not to throw the pen in his hand at Louis' head. He’s just so  _ difficult _ . “What if he’s gay and loves alternative punk wannabes?” 

“What if he breaks into my office, and doesn’t tell me how he got there?”

Liam takes a moment to thank every deity above him that Louis doesn’t often talk about his crushes because on a normal day he’s dramatic, but a Louis that’s smitten with someone? Well, he’s just impossible. 

He levels Louis with a look and the two of them glare at each other across the room until Louis groans. “What if I’m not his type?” 

“You’ll never know unless you talk to him, Louis,” Liam says. “Take it one step at a time. Just walk up to him and introduce yourself, and in three years when you’re getting married, I’ll be standing by your side whispering ‘I told you so’ in your pretty little ears.” Louis blushes, but doesn’t make a move to get up. “Or you could just sign up for a housing loan.” He says it as a joke, but Louis hums like he’s considering it. “Oh my god. You're not doing that. Just go talk to him.” 

“I couldn’t possibly.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. His bank of supportive advice is running on empty. “Well whatever you do, make a decision fast. They’re missing a competent chaperone down there.” 

“Would it be competent of me to ask the teller to play with my hair and tell me I’m beautiful?” Louis wonders out loud, and Liam uses all of the restraint left in his body not to tease him about it. 

“It wouldn’t.” 

Louis sighs again, sounding extremely put out at the answer. “I didn’t think so.” 

He takes a couple of minutes to collect himself, so Liam sits in silence, watching, standing by in case Louis decides he needs more encouragement. He doesn’t, and he leaves the room with his head held high. 

And later that day, as they’re both taking their lunch, Louis won’t stop going on about Harry, the teller with eyes as green as the forest and a fashion sense as sharp as his wit. Liam doesn’t have it in him to say ‘I told you so’, not when his best friend can’t stop smiling at his phone, positively glowing at the promise of something good. 

⇆

For the first time since moving in, Liam gets home and isn’t immediately bombarded with nudity across the courtyard. It’s odd, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

Zayn and his boyfriend are together, but they’re not fucking. Instead, they’re eating take out on the floor behind Zayn’s couch. Liam watches as they laugh, and Zayn says something that makes his boyfriend blush. When Zayn leans forward to pinch his cheek, Liam’s heart stops. It’s the first time he’s seen soft, innocent,  _ puppy _ Zayn around his boyfriend and it sends a sick feeling in his stomach. 

All thoughts of them just having a physical relationship fly out the window, and it’s heartbreaking in the ugliest way. 

He sleeps on the couch that night. 

⇆

The afternoon before Louis' set to go on his first date with the teller, Harry, he calls Liam in a panic, rambling on about how he doesn't have anything to wear, and his hair is parting awkwardly, and that he's unsure if Harry will be interested in him once he gets to talking. So Liam, being the incredible - and modest - best friend that he is, goes over and helps Louis out. 

The outfit he's chosen, his hairstyle, and his personality are all fine, he never actually doubted those, the cocky asshole. It's just Louis' insecurities that have him questioning whether or not Harry will be able to handle him. Not that he's extraordinarily difficult to handle, or anything like that. He's just a tad dramatic, and maybe a bit hard to read at times, but this bank teller would be an absolute fool to not fall head over heels for Louis. 

The day is mostly spent with Liam talking Louis up, praising him about the smaller things and working to boost his ego even the slightest bit. Because after all their years of friendship, the one thing Liam will never forget is just how much of a slut for compliments Louis really is. 

He leaves Louis' house an hour before the date is set to begin - just to give him some alone time to truly prepare himself - and stumbles upon Zayn at the mailboxes. He’s wrapped in a sweater that looks too big, with a frustrated crease in his brow that Liam’s seen a time too many. 

If he were a smarter man, Liam would just go upstairs, make himself an early dinner, and maybe play his kit just to release whatever pent up frustration he’s left with from even seeing Zayn. He knows he needs to distance himself for the sake of his own sanity, but his heart clenches at how soft and vulnerable his neighbor looks, and he can’t help himself from raising an arm and waving. 

“Zayn!” At the shout of his name, Zayn looks up, and all signs of earlier frustration wipe themselves away with a smile. As much as Liam wants to regret calling him over, he can’t. Not with how sweet for him Zayn always is. “Feel like having those beers?”

Even with the space between them, Zayn’s laugh echoes in his ears. “I’d love that! Want to come to mine?” Not wasting time answering, Liam starts to take the steps towards Zayn’s building, but he’s stopped when a look of panic crosses over Zayn’s face and his two palms are suddenly waving to stop him. “Wait! I don’t have beer,” he yells. “Do you have beer?”

“I have beer!”

Zayn lowers his hands and he relaxes a bit, but there’s still a trace of the tension he held before. “Yours it is!”

Even so, Liam laughs as Zayn runs over. He has his mail in his hands, the small bundle of it flapping every time his feet hit the ground. Slowing his pace, he looks down at it before shoving the letters into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

He jumps to a stop in front of Liam. “You’re home awfully early.”

“It’s Saturday,” Liam reminds him.

“Well then what are you doing out so late?” he asks through a smile. 

Liam bites his lip to hold back a laugh but is completely unable to. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. It’s meant to be an insult, but he knows his fondness is bleeding through. “Let’s go.”

He leads the way as they climb the stairs, and this time his hands are unoccupied, meaning Zayn doesn’t have to unlock the door. The part of his brain that wants to remain platonic is glad that Zayn won’t be reaching towards his pocket, but the other ninety-nine percent of him is disappointed that there’s distance between them. 

“I have Victoria and Crown,” Liam says to the apartment as he hears Zayn close the door behind them. “Any preference?”

“Either is fine.” Zayn waves him off and his eyes immediately going to the drum kit. 

Leaving him to it, Liam heads to the kitchen, going straight for the fridge, and grabbing two of the beers closest to his hand. When he gets back, he sees Zayn’s finger tracing the snare. He’s staring down at the kit, a subdued look in his eyes. 

“Your drink?” Liam bumps the bottom end of the bottle to Zayn’s covered arm, making him look up with a jump.

“Thanks.” Zayn smiles, smaller than before, at being caught in his trance. “I was just - ”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Liam cuts him off. Zayn bites his lip at that, but doesn’t try to say anything further. At the silence, Liam opens his bottle and takes a drink, watching as Zayn does the same but slower. “What would you like to do?” 

“Do you think you could play something for me?” Zayn asks, the hand at his side drifting towards the edge of the snare again. 

Liam shrugs through another drink of his beer. “I could, but I don’t think it’d be very entertaining for you.”

“Well I don’t see a television in here,” Zayn points out, “so how else are you supposed to entertain me?” 

“I have bad eyes,” Liam defends himself with a laugh. “I don’t like the temptation of a screen trying to make them even worse.” 

He doesn’t tell Zayn that he watches Netflix on his laptop when he gets too bored - he doesn’t think it’s important. He also doesn’t mention that just outside his window there’s a show every night that’s much sexier than any prime time television show could ever be - he thinks it might be  _ too  _ important. 

“That’s very adult of you,” Zayn says with a sigh. It comes out far more sarcastic than Liam thinks he intended. 

“Is it?”

Zayn nods. “Almost  _ too _ adult.” For a moment he doesn’t say anything, just maintaining eye contact with Liam. But then he’s grinning, his gaze flicking to the drum kit again. “You should age down and play for me.” 

There’s a second where Liam considers saying no, but Zayn’s looking down at him with whiskey eyes, earnest and wanting, and it’s not news that he’s an absolute fool for this pouty-faced man. With a resigned sigh, he nods. 

“Alright, you’ve got me.” Smiling at Zayn’s muted cheer, he sets his bottle down on the counter, certain it’s already leaving a small ring of water on the white top, before grabbing his ipod from the coffee table. He puts his earbuds in and starts scrolling through his library. “Any song preferences?”

Just by the slight jump of Zayn’s shoulders, Liam knows he’s speaking louder than he needs to. He only hopes Zayn can handle it when he actually starts playing the music. 

“Whatever makes you go hardest,” Zayn answers with a grin. There’s a tilt to his mouth that, for a second, makes Liam wonder if it’s on purpose - the double meaning to his comments - but then it’s gone, and he wonders if it was ever really there at all. 

His mouth is a bit dry, usually is when Zayn says his piece with soft eyes and a sharp tongue. It’s those brief flashes of him that Liam’s only  _ truly _ seen through a window that make him want to lay Zayn out and give him what his boyfriend refuses to. 

Instead of acting on his temptations, Liam does what he always does - turns on his percussion-heavy playlist and lets himself get lost in the sound. 

It’s all muscle memory at this point, especially with the twenty or so songs he usually goes to, and Liam let’s himself get lost in the rhythmic beating and repetitive movements. The song he chose isn’t as aggressive or fast-paced as some of the others on the playlist, so he lets himself exaggerate with his arms. It probably looks more impressive than it actually is, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing with his audience. 

Liam doesn’t let himself look at Zayn during the song, doesn’t like feeling watched. His biggest fear here and now is messing up. Sure, it’d be funny, and they’d laugh about it, but Liam’s playing the long game, and messing up the first time he’s trying to impress Zayn isn’t on his to-do list. 

The song is a short one, just over two minutes, but even so, it feels like it’s over too quickly. The music fades in his earbuds and his hand reaches to grip at the cymbal, stopping it’s reverberating. When he looks up, Zayn’s watching him, eyes darker than they were before. And even though Liam’s only seen it from thirty feet away, it’s a look he knows well, and it makes his already racing heart beat a little faster. 

“So?” His voice comes out a little husky from the amount of effort he put into his playing. He could really use a glass of water. Or more beer. “What did you think?” 

Zayn doesn’t answer right away, eyes trained on where Liam’s forearm comes up to wipe at the sweat on his brow. He clears his throat before saying, “It was good.” He takes a swig of his beer and looks away. 

“Yeah?” Liam knows he’s smirking, but there’s always a burst of energy that comes with drumming, and Zayn’s reaction has him feeling more than smug. 

“Yeah,” Zayn answers stiffly, nodding with his words. “I couldn’t tell what song it was, but it was pretty impressive.” 

“Thanks, pup.” Liam takes a sick pleasure in how that makes Zayn’s face burn, the crease reappearing on his forehead and letting Liam know he’s doing a good job of breaking Zayn down. 

“So you - ” Zayn’s voice is strained, cracking easily, and Liam wants to watch him burn. “You said this was how you relieve stress? Just drum a song?” 

It’s easy to see that Zayn’s fighting to keep him composure, and for the first time since meeting his neighbor, it feels like he finally has the upper hand. “Yeah, but I usually go for an hour or two.” 

“Seems a bit tiring.”

“It can be.” Liam shrugs. He can see Zayn tuning out, face getting red, and he tries to salvage the conversation. “Keeps my arms toned though.” Zayn nods even harder at the words, but doesn’t truly respond. The conversation is dying and as much as Liam likes watching Zayn flounder, he feels like they need to move on or the night will end to soon, before Liam can really make an impression. “You said you were feeling a little tense a while back, didn’t you?”

Zayn looks up finally, eyes still dark, with a raised brow. “I did?”

“That’s why you were taking up yoga?”

When it hits, Zayn’s eyes close for a moment before he’s muttering, “Right. I did that.”

“How’s that been working for you?” Liam’s reminded of the few days the other week where Zayn’s ass was always on display in the worst yoga he’d ever seen in his entire life. 

“Not great, actually.” 

“Not bendy enough?” Liam asks, doing his best not to laugh. It wouldn’t matter if he did because in the end, Zayn giggles, and Liam nearly sighs at the eye crinkles. 

“It’s not that,” Zayn waves him off. “I just don’t think I know enough about yoga itself to do anything.”

There’s a brief second where Liam almost doesn’t say anything. He almost keeps his mouth shut and tries to move onto something else. But then he thinks about Zayn in tight pants, under Liam’s hands, letting himself be moved into any position Liam demands of him, and he can’t stop the words from falling from his lips. 

“Let me teach you!” It doesn’t get the immediate approval he’d been hoping for - Zayn laughs in his face - so Liam persists. “No, really. I promise I’m great at it.” 

With an amused grin on his lips, Zayn shakes his head. “I just - ”

“ _Please!_ ” Liam whines, doing his best to stick his bottom lip out through his pleading. “Please please _please._ I don’t beg for just anyone.” Zayn watches the entire show, brown eyes amused, shining like they’re in the light - but Liam thinks they might just always feel that alive. “It’ll be amazing. You’ll feel so content by the end of it.” 

“I mean - ”

Liam cuts him off with a final, “ _ Please _ !” 

“Alright!” Zayn’s final agreement is yelled through his giggles. Liam thinks he could give up music for the rest of his life if just to listen to the melodic sound of Zayn’s laughter for the rest of his life. “I’ll do it once to try it out, but if I’m no good at it - ”

“If you’re no good at it, I’ll let you teach me how to do something I’m not good at,” Liam interrupts him again. 

“What aren’t you good at?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “I’m perfect at everything.” Zayn laughs again - though he never really stopped in the first place - and it’s magic. Liam wants to live by the sound. Instead of doing something embarrassing like saying that out loud or professing his feelings, he changes the subject quickly and irrationally. “Do you want to play cards or something? I have Battleship.”

“I love Battleship.” 

“Battleship it is!” Maneuvering away from his drum kit is difficult with such harried movements, but soon Liam’s free and he eagerly runs to his linen closet and pulls out the game. 

For the rest of the night, they play the game, and Liam can’t even be mad when Zayn beats his ass three times in a row, not when his cheeks hurt from smiling and he feels like he could spend the rest of his life losing games if it meant Zayn would stick his tongue out and blow raspberries like he’s been doing all night. 

It all comes to an end sooner than Liam would like, and before he knows it, he’s leaning against the doorframe, arms flexing with the effort it takes to not lean forward and kiss Zayn. He’s tempted to, thinks it could end pretty well for them both if he were to try, especially with how effortlessly they’ve been orbiting each other all night, but all Liam can think about is how Zayn has another guy in his life. 

If Liam were to give in, he’d be nothing more than the neighbor that got Zayn off. 

And he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be someone Zayn calls when he’s horny. He wants to be the one that makes Zayn feel like he needs to be taken care of, and wants to be the  _ only _ one Zayn thinks of coming to. 

So at the end of the night, he sees Zayn out and tells him he’ll see him soon. And when Zayn gets home and gets himself off against his own front door, teeth biting indents into his own arm, Liam turns away in bed. 

He needs to be a stronger person. 

⇆

The next day, Liam’s woken up in the late morning to a barrage of messages from Louis telling him to come over. 

With Louis, there’s no telling what the insistence means. There aren’t any further details in the messages, and when Liam asks how his date went, he gets no reply. So he’s forced to get out of bed, get dressed, and drive a few blocks over to Louis' place to figure out if he’s going to be congratulating his best friend or doing damage control. 

The front door is unlocked when he gets there, so he heads inside, shuts the door behind him, and navigates through the house to Louis' room. The man in question is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, with a serene smile on his pink lips. 

It’s good news. 

“Is your bed safe for me?” Liam asks, making his way to the other side of the bed. 

Louis rolls over so he stays facing Liam, but he doesn’t answer the question. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” 

“That’s wonderful, but did you fuck?”

“Don’t be crass about Harry,” he frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “He deserves better.” 

Liam rolls his eyes as he holds the edge of the comforter between his fingers. “My apologies. Did he make sweet love to you and spill his seed on your sheets?” 

“No, we didn’t sleep together,” Louis answers with a scoff. Liam starts climbing in, but he only gets one knee on the mattress before Louis' continuing. “Or we did - ” and Liam starts climbing out. “But there was no sex.” 

Before moving too soon and getting in the possibly semen-soaked sheets, Liam groans. “Can I get in your fucking bed?” 

“Yes, Liam,” Louis finally answers, sounding bored. “You can get in my fucking bed.” 

Hesitantly, Liam climbs in, snuggling under the blankets, rearranging himself and pulling the comforter over his shoulders. He inches his way to the center of the bed until he’s touching noses with Louis. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“How was the date?”

The smile that was on his face when Liam arrived is nothing compared to how he’s positively beaming now. “Wonderful,” he says, his voice sounding dreamy as his eyes flutter shut. “The restaurant was nice, but afterwards he came upstairs and we just laid together for hours, talking.”

“Did he pet your hair and call you beautiful?” Liam mocks Louis' words from the career fair, a hand coming up to ghost through his fringe. 

“Yes.” He’s shameless with his sighing, and Liam wants to laugh, but he’s genuinely happy for Louis and can’t find it in himself to make fun. “He also told me terrible jokes and kissed me, so…” 

It’s sweet and it makes Liam more than a bit jealous, but Louis' watching closely for his reaction so he can’t let it show. “Well,” He takes a deep breath, needing to be a good best friend. “It’s about time you found someone worthy of your time.” Louis smiles something small but thankful. “When can I meet him?” 

They spend the morning in bed, Liam letting Louis talk all he wants about his date, about how wonderful Harry is. It’s nice seeing Louis so smitten, but he spends the whole time thinking about Zayn. 

So when he goes home, head a mess of feelings he doesn’t know if he should have, Liam heads over to Zayn’s building and rings his buzzer. 

It takes a minute, but soon Zayn’s tinny voice is coming through the speaker. “ _ Yeah _ ?” 

“It’s Liam,” he yells. “Grab your yoga mat and come over.” 

“ _ Are you serious _ ?”

“Absolutely.” Even though he knows personally that talking at a regular volume would still be perfectly audible through the speaker, he can’t help but raise his voice. “I’ll leave my door unlocked for you.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just heads home, turning the lights on and grabbing his yoga mat from his room. He changes into his running shorts and a tank before heading for the living room. He pushes his coffee table out of the way and as he’s unrolling his mat, Zayn knocks once then opens the door. 

“Hey!”

He smiles at Liam’s eager greeting. He looks every bit the professional, wearing a yellow tank and stretchy black pants that perfectly hold the shape of his ass in a way that makes Liam want to lay him out and show him just how good he can be. 

“I could’ve been busy, you know,” Zayn says, pulling Liam’s gaze up his body. 

“You weren’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he waves Liam off. He’s still standing at the doorway, watching as Liam begins stretching on the floor. “I could have had guests over. I could have been throwing a party.” 

Liam scoffs at that, stretching his arm across his body. “It’s three in the afternoon, and you’re never too busy for me.” Zayn shakes his head at that. “Set up your mat. The class is waiting. You’re disappointing everyone” 

“Is this how it’s going to go?” Zayn asks, shutting the door behind him and making his way further into the room. “You yelling at me, making me feel like I’m always in the wrong?” 

“Not at all,” Liam tells him gently. “I’m great with praise.” Zayn laughs once but it’s short. “If you earn it, of course.” 

Just as Liam had expected, Zayn keeps his eyes down at the comment, his cheeks heating up. He unrolls his mat then sits back, still keeping his eyes down. “Now what?” 

“Now we begin,” Liam claps his hands together once, chuckling when Zayn jumps at the noise. “I’ll start simple.” 

Back when Liam did yoga regularly, he was pretty advanced. After years of practice, he’d managed to teach his body how to hold some pretty ridiculous poses. He doesn’t think starting Zayn off with where he was was would be fair - fun, sure, but not fair - so he thinks back to some of the earlier poses, the less complicated moves, and gets ready to teach it all. 

“We’ll start with Mountain Pose.” He has Zayn copy his movements, putting his feet together, so he’s standing up straight. “Make sure to keep your heels slightly apart, otherwise it’s not so much yoga as just kind of standing there.”

Zayn chuckles to himself, and Liam joins in when he sees Zayn shifting his legs slightly to allow for the movement. So far, so good. 

“Now relax your shoulders and copy me.” 

Liam rolls his shoulders back one at a time before taking his palms and holding them in a prayer-like position in front of his chest. He waits until Zayn’s doing the same and then rises his hands up and over his head, rising to release some pressure from his heels. He hold his position before letting himself come out of it. 

“Stay as you are,” he instructs, watching as Zayn’s muscle tense as though he was just about to let them fall. 

If this were anyone else - like Louis, the one time Liam tried to get him into physical activity - Liam doesn’t think he’d do anything else but show other positions. But this is Zayn, and he’s standing in front of Liam wearing clothes tight enough to show off his every asset, and he’s watching with calculating eyes that make Liam feel just the slightest bit exposed. 

And he wants to get hands on. 

“Is it okay if I touch?” he asks, just to make sure that he’s not overstepping any boundaries in his self-indulgence. 

Zayn nods, but stops when he starts to fall back on his heels. “Yeah.”

“Alright, so.” 

He starts to circle Zayn’s mat, letting his eyes check out the key body parts utilized in Mountain Pose. The first thing he notices is Zayn’s arms. They’re too far apart, and he looks more likely to be dancing to ‘ _ YMCA _ ’ than meditating. 

Liam reaches up with gentle hands, circling them around Zayn’s wrist and pulling them in a bit. “You want your arms to be slightly off from parallel with your ears.” Once it looks more proper Liam lets go, he takes a step back. “Now hold.”

Continuing his inspection, Liam makes his way behind his neighbor, not wanting to let his eyes linger too long on his ass, but he notices the posture and has to correct it. 

“Can I touch?” he asks again. 

This time, Zayn doesn’t answer verbally. He nods once, and it’s stiff. Liam can see he’s holding his breath and Liam’s hands ghost over his hips. He still doesn’t release, even as Liam pulls him down a bit from his arch. 

“Breathe,” Liam tells him. Zayn releases a breath slowly, and his hips naturally shift where they should be. “Keep your tailbone pointed down in this position.”

When he lets go and steps back, he moves his eyes down to Zayn’s feet, expecting to have to tell him not to stand too far on the balls of his feet, or to separate them more, but he’s happy to see that they’re exactly where they have to be. Although the accuracy means Liam doesn’t get to stay hands-on, he’s incredibly proud of the natural perfection. 

He walks back to his mat and takes on Mountain Pose as well, showing Zayn how let himself come out of it naturally. When they have, and taken a moment for Zayn to feel grounded again, Liam leads into the next pose. 

“Now we have Warrior II.”

Liam walks him step by step through the basic poses, feeling himself get excited when Zayn needs less and less help. Slowly he’s learning that many of the positions have similar holds and he starts to naturally shift into them. It’s odd to think, but Liam wishes he could teach yoga to this man for the rest of his life, just to feel as proud and fulfilled as he does now. 

They make it through five or six poses before Liam needs to  _ really _ interact again. Halfway through his explanation of Plank Pose, Liam notices just how high in the air Zayn’s ass is. It’s less like yoga and more like the ridiculous peacocking he was doing in his own living room. and falls down in laughter. 

“Zayn, your ass is  _ way _ too high,” he says. “That’s closer to Downward Dog, but not really.” 

Zayn sighs and lowers himself down, but Liam notices his legs shifting too far apart and his head falling too far forward. His arms manage to keep his back straight, but the rest of it is too messy to ignore. 

“Eyes up.” 

Lifting himself up, he makes his way over to where Zayn’s now staring forward. He double checks that he can touch again. Zayn nods easy and Liam drops until he’s crouched behind him, hands coming down to pull Zayn’s feet closer together. Only, when he does, Zayn’s ass falls further down from where it should be. And when he stands to fix that, with gentle hands, the feet come apart. 

Liam almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous it is, Zayn not able to keep the two positions at once, but it’s actually a bit frustrating, especially when it happens again. 

And again. 

With a sigh, he sets his feet on the outer sides of Zayn’s, stepping very lightly on his pinky toes to make sure they stay where they need to. He leans forward, hands gripping tightly at the soft muscle of Zayn’s hip and he jerks him up. It’s perfect, finally, and Liam wants to cheer for finally manipulating Zayn’s body to where it should be.

But then he looks up and sees his head is aimed at the floor. 

Now it’s not that Liam is impatient. He can be quite understanding with other people's’ limits. However, Zayn keeps shifting himself to one step below perfection, and Liam’s getting a bit annoyed. 

Without realizing what he’s doing, he leans forward, long fingers gripping the hair at the back of Zayn’s neck, and pulls his head where it needs to be. 

And Zayn undeniably moans with it. 

Liam’s not stupid, he knows Zayn’s easy for pain, so he’s well aware of why he reacted the way he did. For a moment, Liam wants to experiment, to tug harder and find out what make else the man would let him do. He doesn’t though, now isn’t the time, and he just holds his head there. 

“ _ Focus _ , Zayn.” 

The temperature in the room went up about ten degrees during the last pose, or maybe Zayn’s just making him hot. 

There’s a lack of breath in his lungs when he starts to direct the next move. “We’ll transition into a low plank from here.” He rubs his hand gently through Zayn’s hair, sweeping it down his neck before removing it completely. He doesn’t feel as smug when Zayn shivers with his entire body because it makes him feel just, if not more, on edge. 

All this is doing is reminding Liam that he’d be  _ so _ good for Zayn, that he could take him apart and put him together so easily, if only Zayn would let him. 

Taking in a few breaths to center himself, Liam forces himself to let go of the impure thoughts and the temptations making his shoulders (and his pants) tighter. When he feels a bit better, more in control, he slides his hands from Zayn’s upper arms to his elbows - hands on either side of his body. With four of his fingers holding the back of them, he adds pressure to the front with his thumbs and Zayn’s arms fold in. 

He wobbles at first, but catches himself. Liam keeps one hand on his right elbow, but lets the other drift to his back, pressing down until Zayn’s just hovering above the ground. He presses Zayn’s elbows in so they’re parallel with his body and then pulls his hands away. 

“Perfect,” Liam breathes. Zayn’s trembling in the position, but they’re almost done and Liam would really love to finish it out, just for his own piece of mind, just to know he’s strong enough to. “One last pose, pup.” 

“Oh,  _ God _ ,” Zayn chokes out, words nearly a whisper in the room. It’s soft and desperate, and Liam doesn’t realize he’s inadvertently made things tense again until Zayn nearly crashes down. 

Liam catches him with a tight grip on his hips, but Zayn only moans. Liam curses himself for letting them both get to this point, but still persists. It’s just one more pose. 

“Last one,” he says, surprised when he doesn’t sound completely winded with his own arousal. “This is Upward Dog.” 

Zayn doesn’t react, something Liam’s half-hard dick is glad about, so Liam explains his process and he rearranges his neighbor’s easily manipulated body, guiding his hips down and arching so his upper body is parallel with the walls. 

“And then you just look up and you’re done,” Liam finishes. It should be the end of it, they should be wrapping up, but Zayn doesn’t move. “Look up, Zayn.” But Zayn doesn’t - just shakes his head, eyes closed tight as his head stays focused towards the mat. “ _ God _ .” 

Sick of waiting, Liam does the only thing he knows that’ll get Zayn there - he grips tightly at Zayn’s fringe and jerks his head back with a pull that  _ has _ to hurt. 

But it works. 

Zayn’s head jerks back and his jaw is dropping open with a cry. Liam maintains his grip as he looks over Zayn’s pose. His arms are a little off, but there’s no way to fix that without letting go of Zayn’s hair, but he knows the second he does, Zayn’s going to fall to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. So this is good enough.

“And we’re done.” 

He lets go and Zayn folds, dropping with a moan. His entire body is covered in a sheen of sweat and his face is pinched. Liam wants to see how far he can push him, but knows that he can’t, that they’ve already gone ten steps too far. 

And when Zayn finally gets enough control to get up and look at Liam, his eyes are blown out, completely black, staring up expectantly at Liam. From this angle, he can see Zayn’s pants stretching tightly around his erection, and knows that Zayn’s asking for something. 

“You, uh.” He clears his throat around his words and looks away. “You should head home. It’s gonna be dark soon.” He thinks he regrets the words just saying them, but it’s nothing compared to the resentment he has for himself when Zayn pouts up at him before leaving, a broken and hurt look in stormy eyes. 

⇆

Liam watches Zayn walk through his front door with shaky hands holding a phone. He knows what it means, knows that Zayn’s calling his boyfriend, and he hates himself even more. He watches, unable to look away, as Zayn paces his living room until his boyfriend arrives.

Only, when he walks through the door and Zayn throws himself at him, his boyfriend turns him down, hands gently pushing at his shoulders, stroking Zayn’s upper arms a few times as he adds distance between them. He’s saying something softly, his eyes hesitant and movements careful. 

There’s a beat. 

And then Zayn’s yelling. He’s angry - absolutely  _ livid _ \- his hands jerking around furiously as his angry mouth forms around words Liam’s glad he can’t hear. 

Liam watches, apt, as Zayn’s boyfriend calms him down. It takes nearly ten minutes, but soon, with soft strokes of his upper back and a calm demeanor, Zayn’s looking a lot more sane. They hug, Zayn holding on tighter, and the boyfriend leaves. 

And then Zayn’s marching off to his room and the show is over. 

Despite the severity of the fight, Liam finds himself still hard and gets off thinking of how easy Zayn was under his hand. Afterwards, he finds himself feeling upset that Zayn was so angry, but smug that his boyfriend didn’t get to reap the benefits of the work Liam put in. 

⇆

Things go on the same way for awhile - Liam watching Zayn walk around naked, a permanent frown on his face now that he’s broken up with his boyfriend and there’s nobody around to offer him release - and when they run into each other in the halls, things are different. Zayn is soft and sweet and always leaves with a smile on his face that matches the one on Liam’s. 

Nothing progresses, though. 

Every time Liam thinks about asking Zayn out, he chickens out. He just isn’t sure if Zayn’s honestly, truly into him or is just an oversexualized maniac out for a one-nighter. Liam wouldn’t mind the latter, but he doesn’t think he can just hook-up with Zayn, knowing he won’t be able to feed him french toast and fruit in the morning. 

So he doesn’t make a move. Instead, he sits back and daydreams about all the romantic and sexual things he could be missing out on with Zayn. It’s miserable and fulfilling in the most infuriating way. 

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Louis' relationship with his bank teller boyfriend is going amazing - something Louis won’t stop bragging about. It’s sweet, Liam can admit to that, the way he never stops smiling, floating around talking about how perfectly it’s all going, but there’s only so much Liam can take before he cracks. He’s jealous, plain and simple. 

Though that jealousy quickly turns to fear when he actually  _ meets _ Harry. 

It’s unprompted, which is the worst part. Liam and Louis are sitting in the teacher’s lounge over their lunch break, and Louis' been complaining about the state of the school’s kiln for the past five minutes. “We’re going to need a new one by June,” he’s saying, “Just because the kids don’t know how to follow procedure.” Liam’s nodding, lifting up his mug, and looking up - 

And suddenly he’s choking. 

Approaching their table is none other than Zayn’s boyfriend. He looks just like he always does, only he’s fully clothed this time around. He’s looking at Louis with a soft smile on his face, but even then, the truth doesn’t hit Liam until he walks up behind Louis, cups his hands under Louis' chin, and pulls his head back for a chaste kiss. 

Louis' boyfriend is  _ Zayn _ ’s boyfriend. Or would it be his  _ ex _ boyfriend, since it’s been over a week since they had that argument, and since haven’t done anything other than watch television together? 

The couple breaks their kiss and Louis gasps, a smile taking over his face. “ _ Harry _ ! What are you doing here?” It’s not that Liam  _ needed _ confirmation that this was Harry, but having it goes to further cement Liam’s worry. 

“Thought I’d visit you on your lunch,” Harry tells him, stepping from behind Louis and pulling out the empty chair at their table. 

“Don’t you have work?” 

“I took an early lunch to come visit. I don’t have much time, but it’s worth it.” Harry’s smiling at Louis like he’s everything in the world, and Liam wants to think it’s sweet and be happy for his best friend, but he can’t, not when he’s too busy trying to find an exit route. 

He realizes too late that he can’t get away, and that he’s going to have to face the couple. He moves a bit too much, pulling the attention on himself, and Louis jumps to introduce the two. “Oh. Harry, this is my best friend, Liam.” He points to each of the men as he says their name. “Liam, Harry.” 

Liam can tell the moment that Harry’s eyes meet his that he’s caught. They’ve run into each other once outside the building, but they’ve locked eyes more than that in passing. If the shock in Harry’s eyes gives anything away, he definitely recognizes Liam. 

“You…” Harry trails off, clearing his throat. “You look so familiar.”

“I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“Guess so,” he agrees. There’s a moment where Harry watches his face closely, but then he’s smiling like nothing ever happened and sticking his hand out. “Nice to meet you.” 

Liam nods quickly and wipes his hand before standing up and reaching for Harry’s. “You too. I hear you make Lou quite happy.” 

Easy as anything, Harry chuckles, pulling his hand back to rub at the back of his neck. “I hope I do.” He smiles down at Louis, whose skin is slowly turning pink. It’s sweet, and for a moment, Liam thinks they’ve passed any initial weirdness. But then Harry’s falling into a chair and turning back to him. “So, Liam. Are you seeing anybody?”

“I, uh. No,” he denies, shaking his head. “Living the single life.”

At his answer, Louis starts laughing. Liam and Harry turn to him to glare and question respectively. “He’s obsessed with - ”

“With my work,” Liam jumps in. Louis' got a big mouth, and his sentence could have ended with anything from a vague concept of a person to Zayn’s home address. There’s just no telling. “It’s hard to meet someone when I’ve got so much music. Say, speaking of work, I hear you’re a bank teller. How’d you get into it.” 

Louis looks confused about the change of subject and the speed of which it happened, but Liam refuses look him in the eye. His heart is racing, pounding aggressively against his chest, and everything feels like it’s been shifted slightly to the left.

After that, things run relatively smoothly, no other close calls. The conversation flows easily - though Liam keeps mostly to himself, not wanting to risk saying anything that’ll expose him or his voyeuristic hobby. He sits back and listens, smiling every time Louis turns pink at the compliments thrown his way. 

Their time comes to an end just five minutes before the lunch bell rings when Harry looks at his phone and curses. Seeing as he’s been nothing but polite the entire meal, it’s a bit jarring to hear him swear. 

“I should’ve been out of here a few minutes ago,” he says lowly. Louis responds with a petulant jut of his lower lip as his boyfriend stands up and Harry smiles at him.”I’ll see you tomorrow morning for coffee before work?”

“I’ll be there.” 

Harry leans down and kisses the pout off Louis' face, and they both part with a bashful smile. There’s a moment where neither of them say anything, but then Harry’s turning to Liam and smiles, but there’s an edge to it. “Nice to meet you again, Liam.” It’s said knowingly and Liam narrows his eyes. 

“You too.” Liam watches as Harry makes his way from the lounge. The very moment his body is out of view, Liam’s jerking his head directly in front of Louis' “Whatever you do, you can’t mention Zayn to Harry.”

“Why not?” 

“I - it’s just.” He stutters his way through an answer, not wanting to to have to shatter the illusion of the perfect, soft, well-meaning Harry to Louis. Not that there was anything wrong with the fact that he dated Zayn, but this isn’t something that Louis should be bothered with. “Just please don’t.” 

“Why are you being weird?” Louis asks, head tilted in a manor much more subdued than he typically is. Liam thinks it’s Harry’s influence, making Louis softer than usual. “We always tease each other about this stuff. Why cant Harry join in?” 

“Because I don’t want him to.” 

He frowns at the half-answer. “Do you not like him?” he asks. “Why can’t - ”

“Because Harry’s the one that Zayn’s been hooking up with!” 

Liam’s outburst is met with three reactions: his own - a pinched face and inward curse at himself for being so impulsive and reckless, the other teachers’ - muted conversations and looks of confusion and curiosity, and Louis' - furrowed eyebrows and blue eyes painted in disbelief. 

“You're lying,” Louis accuses him half-heartedly, voice failing him. 

“I’m not.” 

“He’s…” He trails off, and Liam can see most of their coworkers back to minding their own business. Even so, Louis keeps his voice down when he continues, “He's been sleeping around with your neighbor behind my back?” 

It’s not that Louis' insecure. He isn’t. He just always puts too much faith in other people, and finding out that Harry didn’t sit at the bank for two decades, waiting to meet Louis is coming as a bit of a shock to him. He’ll be fine once Liam manages to explain the situation, but actually  _ getting _ to explain the situation is difficult when Louis' sinking deeper in his own mind. 

“I’m - ”

“He’s been seeing  _ me _ behind Zayn’s back?” Louis cuts him off before he can even try to speak. 

“I don’t - ”

“I really thought - ”

“Louis,  _ stop _ !” Liam doesn’t care if they’ve gained the attention of the other teachers. He needs to stop this before his friend is inconsolable. “You’re spiralling, you need to stop. They haven’t slept together since your first date at least, that I’ve seen. Zayn called him over, they yelled for a bit, and since then they just watch movies together.”

Things get quiet between them, Louis not immediately freaking out, which is a good sign. “Do you think I broke them up?” He asks calmly. 

“I don’t think they were really dating,” Liam says, not sure if he believes up, but needing Louis to, just for the sake of his own sanity. “Just hooking up.”

“And he - ”

“I don’t think Harry did anything wrong,” Liam explains. He thinks he knows what Louis' thinking, knows that he’s worried about  _ Liam’s _ interpretation of Harry is skewed. This whole situation is fucked up, and it could have all been easily prevented if Liam would’ve kept his curtains closed. “It’s  _ me _ that fucked up. He can’t know I watched him fuck Zayn.” 

Louis nods along, lips thinned as he takes in what Liam says. “So you don’t think he’s scum or whatever?”

“He’s not my favorite person, I’ll say that,” he answers honestly, not wanting to lie and make things even more complicated. “But that’s because of my own hangup with Zayn. For you, I think he’s great. He’s a good person and I can tell he makes you happy.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Liam lets all of his sincerity bleed into his tone, and it’s worth it when Louis smiles. The bell rings, dismissing their lunch break, and as Louis goes to stand, Liam stops him with a hand on his forearm. “Just promise you won’t say anything about Zayn.” 

Louis nods. “I swear. Zayn who, right?” 

“Right.” His stomach coils tightly. He has a rotten feeling about this. 

⇆

Sunday morning, Liam goes for his usual morning jog, passing the bus stop - like he typically does - but this time there’s a familiar figure standing around. It’s Zayn, Liam could recognize him from a mile away at this point, and his face lights up the moment his eyes land on Liam. 

“There’s my favorite drummer,” he says, pulling the attention of a few other patrons at the stop. Liam smiles instinctively as he slows down and comes to a stop. “I feel like I don’t see you around as often anymore.” 

“Work’s just…” He trails off, panting. He’s exaggerating his breathlessness a bit because he doesn’t want be here for long. His feelings, mixed with Harry being so close to him, to  _ both  _ of them - it’s running him ragged. 

Zayn nods, completely ignorant to Liam’s hesitation for a conversation. “I get that. If you ever want to chat, though, I’m around.” 

“I’d like that a lot,” Liam says, and he isn’t lying. He’d  _ love _ to get Zayn alone, to spend hours just talking into the night, but it’s not a good idea. Even so, he can’t stop himself from offering, “Maybe this week we can get dinner or something.” 

“I’d love that,” Zayn laughs, a grin lighting up his face, crinkles near his eyes showing his sincerity. “There’s a few places I’ve been wanting to try in the city. What were you thinking?” 

Truthfully, Liam was thinking of hiding in his house all week so he doesn’t have to sit through a dinner with his cockteasing, heart-stealing neighbor. “I’ve got no preference,” he says instead. “Just as long as it’s not fast food.”

“What’s wrong with - ” Zayn’s question is cut off as his gaze floats past Liam’s head, and then he’s a gasping, a giant smile taking over his confused face. “ _ Puppy _ !”

Liam turns, and right behind him, there’s a woman walking down the sidewalk, a puppy trotting happily ahead of her. The animal is cute, but even more, Zayn looks like he’s seen gold. Liam steps out of the way so the woman can pass, but Zayn just drops to the ground and lets the puppy approach, running straight into his arms. 

“You are the  _ cutest _ !” Zayn yelling, hands sinking into the fur behind the dog’s ear. “Look at you!” His voice is high, full of awe, and Liam suddenly realizes something that scares him as much as it excites him.

He’s in love with Zayn. 

It’s an odd time to realize such a thing, Liam knows, but somehow it feels just right, like he was  _ meant _ to figure things out right here, right now, as Zayn shows this puppy all of the affection he possibly can in less than a minute. 

The woman and the dog head off a short bit later, and Zayn lets them, standing up as he watches them go. “What an  _ angel _ ,” Zayn sings, and Liam’s head spins. He’s smiling softly and Zayn catches his eyes, amused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he denies with a chuckle. “You’re a puppy yourself, that’s all.”

The joy from earlier fades into something more subdued on Zayn’s face. Slowly, red starts staining his skin, climbing up from his neck. He tilts his head down, eyes suddenly taking an interest in their shoes. “You don’t know what that does to me, do you?” 

Before Liam can answer, can confirm that he thinks he just might know  _ exactly _ what that does to Zayn, the bus is pulling up. Zayn leaves, biting his bottom lip and waving. Liam watches him go, feeling something odd building in his chest. 

Once the bus pulls away, Liam keeps running, even passing his building. He figures another mile won’t kill him. 

⇆

When Liam gets home, exhausted and positively drenched in his own sweat, he calls Louis, needing his best friend to vent to about his feelings - all the stuff Louis considers himself an expert in. Of course, because his friend is now in a relationship with someone, that means he’s not always available, so Liam finds himself rolling his eyes, putting his earbuds back in, and jogs towards the city where Louis and his boyfriend are enjoying breakfast together. 

The cafe isn’t too far out, only five blocks or so, but by the time Liam gets there, he can’t breathe. He stops in front of the table Louis and Harry are sitting at on the patio, dropping his hands to knees. 

It’s easy to see that he startles the couple, especially when Louis' hand goes to his chest, pressing down as he breathes roughly. “Fuck, Li. What the fuck happened to you?”

“Jogging,” Liam tells him, the word coming out a bit distorted through his panting. “Two miles.”

“You’re a wreck.” Louis' nose curls up in disgust, but Liam can’t even feel offended, not when he’s thirty seconds from dropping. “Why’d you go so far?”

Liam shakes his head. He can’t go into much detail, not with Harry sitting right there. “Saw him,” he settles for instead. “Felt stressed.”

“Saw who?” From the corner of his eye, Liam can see Harry sit up straighter, his casually interest losing all subtlety. Liam rushes to wave him off, but he’s out of breath and doesn’t get there in time. Instead, he watches in what feels like slow motion as his old best friend and new worst enemy ruins  _ everything _ . 

“Zayn, his neighbor.” With Louis' casual reveal, Liam’s heart is in his throat. “He’s practically in love with him.”

Liam glares, feeling like he could honestly kill Louis. “Are you -  _ fucking _ ,” he takes a breath. “ - kidding me?” The second part of the reveal was completely unnecessary, and - up until about an hour ago - completely untrue. 

Ever since Liam moved into his new apartment, it feels like everything has slowly began to fall apart. He can’t control his own emotions anymore, and he’s been watching his neighbor - his incredibly sexy neighbor - naked in the privacy of his own home. His best friend is dating said neighbors ex boyfriend, and now everything’s unravelling in front of him. 

Man, he could  _ really _ kill Louis right now. 

For the most part, it doesn’t look like Louis thinks he’s done anything wrong, but then his eyes are widening and filling with regret. “Liam, I’m so - ”

“Zayn Malik?” Harry’s voice speaks up, void of any emotion. Louis and Liam both snap their gaze to Harry, and his face is just as blank as his tone. “The one whose window is right across from yours? That is who you’re talking about, yeah?”

Liam stares, mouth tense, breathing through his nose. He refuses to answer. He feels humiliated, and if he weren’t already flushed from his run, he would be from the sheer embarrassment of it all. He’s far too old to be staying silent in the face of a question at this point in his life, but he can’t think of anything to say that isn’t begging for Harry’s silence. 

“You’ll have to answer me sooner or later.”

Liam holds out as long as he can, mind racing to think of  _ something _ to say, but all he can do is beg. “ _ Please _ don’t say anything to him.” 

“I won’t,” Harry says, which isn’t what Liam expected, but as soon as the words hit, his head drops in surprise and relief. Until - “But he already knows.”

Blame it on his exhaustion, on the physical and mental toll that’s already been thrust at him so early in the morning, but Liam holds out hope that maybe, just maybe, it’s not what he’s thinking. He raises his head, eyes narrowing. “Knows what?”

“That you’re into him,” Harry confirms Liam’s worst fears. “He’s known since the day you met, and you tried to lean against your snare but almost fell to the ground.” 

“I - it was a cymbal,” Liam finds himself trying to defend his past-self’s clumsiness. Harry just shrugs. “How do you know about everything?”

“Zayn told me,” he answers. “Though, he didn’t need to. I could see you staring into his window every time I came over.” 

As soon as the words sink in, Liam’s entire body drops with the weight of it all. He catches himself on the chair, mouth open. “Oh god - ”

“I  _ knew _ he could see you,” Louis yells, voice painted in amusement, which doesn’t fucking  _ help _ . 

“Fucking kill me.”

“I told you so, Liam.” Louis' laugh is going to be the soundtrack to Liam’s demise. “I said it  _ twice _ .”

“I need to move.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, and Liam has no clue how he can act so  _ bored _ when he’s just torn down the walls of Liam’s mind and exposed his deepest and creepiest secret to the entire world. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you kidding me?” Liam asks, letting the shock and outrage bleed into his tone. “He knows I’ve been watching him. He knows I’ve seen you  _ fuck _ him - ” He cuts himself off when a nearby table turns to them, all looking more interested than disgusted. He lowers his voice and continues, “He knows, and he’s probably disgusted. I need to move.” 

“You’re being very dramatic.”

“Well you’re dating Louis, so get used to it,” Liam snaps. Louis hums, not even denying it. Liam rolls his eyes when Harry smiles fondly at him. He doesn’t think he can take looking at the happy couple any long when he knows he’ll never have that, not after today’s terrible discovery. “I should head home. I’ve got some curtains to close and boxes to pack.” 

“You’re so obtuse, Liam, really.” Harry looks almost bored with his reaction, and it’s really grating on Liam’s nerves. “Yes, Zayn can see you, knows you’ve been watching him - boo hoo.”

He narrows his eyes. “ _ ‘Boo-hoo _ ’?”

“He could’ve closed his curtains easily, but he didn’t,” Harry says. “He walked around naked, did bad yoga with his ass to the glass. He made me - ” Harry cuts out suddenly, looking around before whispering, “ -  _ spank _ him.” There’s a flush on his face as continues speaking at a normal volume. “He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t putting on a show.”

“I - ”

“So you and Zayn never dated?” Louis asks, cutting off Liam. 

Harry looks to Louis and smiles, but Liam’s too busy melting down to pay much attention to it. “Never. We hooked up occasionally. It started when we were in college. Every few months or so one of us would call the other for some stress relief.” Liam chokes out a noise - ‘stress relief’ is what yoga was supposed to be for, not  _ Harry _ \- but Harry ignores him. “When Liam moved in, though, he called me two or three times a week.”

Louis hums, looking settled with the answer, and suddenly Liam suspects that they’ve talked about this before. He can’t dwell on the thought, because Harry’s words sink in and he’s immediately backtracking. 

“He called you because of  _ me _ ?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Obviously. He wanted to put on a show.”

“To make me jealous?”

“That’s part of it.” Harry tilts his head to each side once, considering, before continuing. “He definitely wanted you to see him sexually, that’s for sure. But when it was just us hanging out as friends, he’d go on and on about you, and how you made him blush and laugh.” Harry scoffs at is own words, and Liam wants to be offended. “I think him doing his window act was the only way he knew how to get you to make a move.”

Liam's mind is racing. He can hear Louis and Harry moving on to talk about something else in the background, but he can’t focus. He’s too busy going over everything that Harry’s just told him, that Zayn’s also interested in him, and has been  _ peacocking _ around to push Liam into making a move. 

But something just doesn’t make sense. 

“Why didn’t he just ask  _ me _ out?”

Harry looks away from Louis, lips tilting down. “Zayn is… He doesn’t ask for anything unless he  _ has _ to. I’m - ” He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh. “This might be too much - more than I need to say - but he likes being made to beg. If you ask him out, he’ll say yes. He’ll be eager and excited about it too, but he’s not going to make the first move.” He bites the bottom left corner of his lip. “Not unless you make him, at least.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Liam nods. As much as he wants to keep inquiring about Zayn and the games he plays, it’s not Harry’s job to tell him. Besides, he thinks he’s got an idea. 

“This had been insightful,” Liam says, standing up suddenly. “I think I have some things to think about.”

“I think you do.”

Liam puts his earbuds in, ready to head for home again, but he ends up taking them out again. “Can you not mention this to Zayn?” Harry pretend to lock his mouth, throwing away the imaginary key, and Liam grins, but then turns to glare at Louis. 

“What?”

“Maybe your boyfriend can keep a promise better than you can,” Liam bites. 

He doesn’t stay for a reply or an apology, just puts his earbuds back in and jogs off. He spends the entire route home thinking about what he’s just been told. At first, he feels a bit manipulated, a bit played, but he knows Zayn’s not that kind of person. It’s more than just Zayn wanting his dick, it  _ has  _ to be. And Liam’s going to make Zayn tell him so. 

He’s going to make him beg. 

⇆

He calls it the Reverse-Zayn, and it’s his best idea yet. 

At first, Liam wanted to get started right away, to march over to Zayn’s and break him down piece by? piece. He wanted more than anything to hear Zayn begging right then and there. That wouldn’t have been much of a punishment for the way Zayn’s been trying to manipulate him, and Liam’s nothing if not completely fair. 

He waits a week. 

It’s miserable, and seeing Zayn continue his naked parading inside but be every bit a human cuddle outside - well, it really wears him down. By time Friday rolls around, Liam’s reworked the plan over a million times, and he’s all but shaking underneath his skin. The amount of self-control it took not to start earlier, to say “fuck it” and abandon his plans would impress even Harry, who Liam is learning is a master of keep his composure. 

It all works itself out, though. The waiting is worth it, and Liam realizes that from the moment he wakes up and strips out of his pajamas, standing with his back to the window for a little bit. After stretching, he walks over to his dresser, pulling out his clothes for the day. From the corner of his eye, he can see Zayn standing in front of his side table, morning coffee abandoned in his hands. He’s far from subtle. 

He goes to work, making sure to leave on time, and not get distracted by Zayn’s usual morning antics. In fact, he barely pays attention to him, letting his eyes just skimming over Zayn’s half dressed figure. Whether Zayn notices or not isn’t important - just as long as he knows Liam’s focused on something other than him. 

He spends the entire day full of unrestrained energy. He lets all of his classes choose the music they play because his mind is too occupied to really pay much attention. If it makes is students favor him a bit more, that’s just another benefit. 

As is the norm on Fridays, Zayn and Liam get off work at the same time. Liam likes to run over and talk to him for a little bit, but today he only waves at him. He has too much planned to abandon it all for a little conversation. Besides, if Zayn thinks that Liam’s not giving him all of his attention, it’ll put him on edge. 

Which is  _ exactly _ what he’s going for. 

Liam goes to his room and strips again. Zayn’s already sorting through his mail at his side table, but as soon as Liam’s body is on display, his eyes drift up. Liam spares a moment to mentally slap himself upside the head for not sooner realizing Zayn could see him. It’s not like it’s some secret with the way he’s openly ogling Liam through the glass.

After getting dressed in his usual workout clothes, Liam disappears to his living room and spends the next hour and a half at his drum kit. It’s tedious, and it exhausts him more than it usually does because he’s not frustrated at all. In fact, he’s feeling more loose-limbed than he typically is just at the thought of what’s going to happen if this all works out. 

When his playlist ends, Liam goes back into his bedroom - only, he can’t see Zayn through the window. 

So he waits. 

Just to keep up appearances, to maintain the dampness of his skin and his shirt, he does jumping jacks until he sees Zayn walking back into the living room. Liam hides behind the door frame, takes a deep breath, and then makes a show of walking into his room, flicking on the lights and going towards his closet. When he feels Zayn’s eyes on him again, he pulls his shirt off, wiping his brow off with the fabric, before throwing it into his laundry basket. 

For good measure, he reaches his hand into his pants and squeezes himself. He moans - he knows Zayn can’t hear, but it feels phenomenal - taking care to close his eyes with it. Then he heads to the bathroom. 

When he gets out of his shower - not really drying off, just wrapping the towel around his waist - it’s dark outside. With his light on, it makes him all the more visible, and he hopes Zayn cracks soon. He’s only got one more trick up his sleeve, and if it doesn’t work, he may just have to admit defeat. 

The towel comes off, barely damp since it wasn’t actually used, and Liam climbs up on his bed, shuffling with his knees. He faces his dresser, not wanting to be  _ too _ obvious with what he’s doing, and slowly wraps his fist around himself. He takes his time, barely moving as he strokes forward, really just working to get himself hard, but he lets himself get lost in the feeling. 

If this works, Zayn will take it as an invitation to come over. If it doesn’t Liam’s going to have a killer orgasm  _ thinking _ about Zayn coming over. 

Truly, it’s a win/win. 

He’s only been at it for a few minutes, making a show of leaning his head back and biting his lip, hoping the lighting does his body justice, when there’s a pounding at the front door. The suddenness of it makes him jump a bit. With a laugh, he takes his hand off of himself - it’s a true test of his restraint - and climbs off the bed. 

As he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants, forgoing the underwear, he spares a glance at Zayn’s apartment, only to find it empty. Perfect. Zayn’s still pounding on the door when Liam emerges from his room, and once he gets close enough, he can hear Zayn’s infuriated voice yelling, “Open up, you  _ fucker _ !”

With a smirk, he opens it and Zayn falls forward, his fist still raised. He looks down and his eyes focus on where Liam’s dick is tenting his sweats, a small wet spot forming around the head. His gaze stays locked for a beat too long and he gulps before he looks up, eyes narrowed in anger. 

“You fucking  _ know _ what you’re doing. You know I can see you and you’re being a  _ tease _ ,” Zayn yells, pointing his finger at Liam. Instead of reacting the way he’s expected to, Liam just raises his eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. Zayn flushes and stutters over his next words. “You… You’re - ”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Liam asks, but Zayn doesn’t answer. “Or are you just going to stand on my doorstep like a lost little puppy, yelling at me?” 

Zayn starts slowly turning red, the color climbing up his neck in an arousing show of just how affected he is. He doesn’t move to speak, and Liam feels a familiar rush of power. If he wasn’t in this for the long game, he’d already be pulling Zayn towards his bedroom. 

As it is, this is going to last. So he plays it slow. Authoritative. In charge. 

“Well?”

“I…” Zayn swallows dryly, his adam’s apple bobbing nicely on his throat. “You’re going to fuck me.” It takes effort not to laugh at his attempt at making a demand, but Liam manages to just grin. 

“I am?”

Zayn’s avoiding eye contact, his eyes focused solely on Liam’s chest. “Yes.” He clears his throat when the word comes out broken. “Yes. You are. And you’re going to - ”

“It’s funny,” Liam cuts him off abruptly. It works to bring Zayn’s eyes level with his. He takes advantage of that and starts to approach, feeling a sick satisfaction when Zayn backs up as he does. “You come over to  _ my _ apartment, bang on  _ my _ door, and then start demanding things from  _ me _ .” Zayns back hits the wall and he swallows dry. Liam rubs his thumb against his adam’s apple, feeling Zayn quiver under his touch, before he cages him in with one arm. “Why do you think you get to do that?” 

“I’m… I - ”

Liam leans down so his lips are almost touching Zayn’s but not quite, teasing him with a promise he won’t pull through on. 

“I’m the one that gets to call the shots, puppy,” he breathes, and Zayn honest to god  _ whimpers _ . Liam has to take a deep breath so he stays rational and on track with the plan instead of just taking Zayn against the wall. “And I’m not gonna fuck someone who thinks they can demand something of me.” Before he finishes, Zayn leans up to try and kiss Liam. His lips barely make contact before Liam’s pulling away with a dry laugh. “Or tries to take what they aren’t offered.” 

Zayns eyes are dark, a bit lost, searching Liam’s face for answers to a question he can’t make himself ask. Liam’s having too much fun. He’d get down on one knee right now if it meant he could play with Zayn for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll tell you what, pup. I’ll forget about this little…” he trails off, but keeps his eyes focused on Zayn, “ _ tantrum _ , we’ll call it, if you go home right now. I’ll take you out tomorrow night, and afterwards, if you behave, I’ll consider your earlier demands.” He lets his free hand ghost over Zayn’s waist, but he doesn’t touch. “Sound good?” 

Zayn takes a minute, eyes searching Liam’s face before he nods and he takes a shaky breath. “Yes.”

Liam smiles, letting it take over his entire face, and Zayn’s breath stutters. 

“Good.” He backs up, and Zayn leans away from the wall, but he doesn’t move. “Go on.” 

He taps Zayn’s hip, putting the slightest amount of force behind it to get him moving, and Zayn stumbles, mind too stuck on other things to catch himself. He walks off, shaking his head, and refusing to look at Liam.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Liam’s running to his room. He watches as Zayn stumbles into his front door, and for the second time since they’ve met, he’s getting himself off against his front door, sobbing out when he cums. 

He looks frustrated and tense, and for the first time it only makes Liam feel smug. 

⇆

Liam watches Zayn shut his curtains two hours before their date. 

He strolls into the living room, completely naked, coffee cup held tightly in his left hand as his right hangs uselessly at his side. He approaches the window and smiles at Liam before his right hand is wrapping around his half-hard dick, tugging once, and then the curtains are blocking his view. 

Instead of getting angry like Zayn wants and expects, Liam just smirks. He has plans for tonight. 

⇆

The date goes fucking fantastic. The food was fine, the atmosphere was alright, nothing to write home about, but being near Zayn was everything. From the moment Zayn opened his door and Liam got his first look at his smiling face, everything fell into place. 

The two of them have so much in common - much more than Liam had expected when they met, just six weeks back, and the night flies by, filled with laughing and smiling and a thrill in Liam's bones that he hasn't felt in years. 

The night could end after dinner, the two of them parting their separate ways on the sidewalk just outside their apartments, and it would still be the best night of his life.

Sex isn't going to make or break this - it’s much more than that.

But as much as Liam wants to believe there are no expectations for tonight, he can’t deny the electrifying current pushing them along, pulling the air between them until it’s taught and ready to snap at a moment’s notice. There shouldn’t be an expectation, but there definitely is, and Liam doesn’t find himself minding at all. 

When they finally get home, Liam walking Zayn up to his door, he sighs, they’re both leaning against the wall and standing far too close together. “I should be getting home.” 

The disappointment on Zayn’s face is obvious, his subtlety nonexistent, and Liam can’t resist leaning forward and kissing him. It wipes the pout off of Zayn’s face, the other man smiling against him lips, and it’s all sweet. 

For a moment. 

When Zayn’s hand reaches up, running his finger down Liam’s collar bone, Liam seizes his wrist and presses it against the wall behind him. He swallows Zayn’s moan at the pressure and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Zayn’s mouth. 

Through panting breaths, Liam continues his earlier teasing. “It’s late.” Zayn hums in agreement, but chases Liam’s lips every time he pulls away. “I really shouldn’t stay much longer.” Even as he’s speaking, he’s leaving small biting kisses down Zayn’s jaw, nipping just enough to have his breath coming in stutters. It’s gratifying in the sexiest kind of way. 

“O-or,” Zayn says, voice as weak as his wrist under Liam’s hand. “You could… you could come inside.”

Liam hums, his teeth scraping just behind Zayn’s ear. “What would we possibly do in there, puppy?” he wonders, feeling a  _ zip _ of energy when it results in a whine. 

“Li, please.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Liam mocks, his words a husky chuckle in Zayn’s ears. “How polite of you.” He continues his assault and Zayn just melts into the wall, a mess of moans and pleas as Liam marks him up, body constantly squeezing in tighter until Zayn could practically lift his legs and not drop an inch. “I guess I could consider - ”

The words aren’t even out of his mouth before Zayn’s pushing them both away from the wall and dragging them into the dark apartment. They pass the lightswitch, and Liam laughs at how eager and clumsy Zayn is, feet nearly slipping from under him twice. 

They’re halfway across the living room when Liam notices something. He stops walking, and Zayn nearly topples with it. “Where are we going?” 

“My bedro - ” 

“Oh, puppy,” Liam sings, bottom lip jutting out as he pulls his hand away. “If you think for one moment I’m not going to take you up against the window you’ve been teasing me with, you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Zayn’s head turns to the window, flushing prettily in the moonlight that’s shining through. Liam’s going to destroy him. 

For the first time since arriving, Liam turns to look as well, and - well,  _ shit _ . “Look at that,” he says, voice marvelling at the very clear sight of his entire bedroom. He can even see the edge of his hi-hat from his drum kit just outside the open door. “You have quite the view, don’t you.” 

“I - ”

“Makes me feel a lot less forgiving when I think about what a knowing little cocktease you’ve been.” 

Zayn outright moans at that, a broken “ _ fuck _ ” falling from his lips as he does. “Can you just - ”

“Can I just what?” he asks, turning back to Zayn, taking him how much of a mess he already is, just at a few kisses and some purposefully structured words. “Are you rushing me, pup? After I’ve put so much consideration into giving you what you need?” Zayn shakes his head, eyes glinting with it. Suddenly, Liam wants to see him. “Why don’t we get these clothes off?” 

Not hesitating for even a moment, Zayn begins stripping himself of his clothing, and any thoughts that Liam mave have been having about anything else in the world are wiped away immediately at the sight Zayn, naked flesh on display, right in front of him. He takes his shirt off, just to keep things fair, but Zayn doesn't even leave his rings on his fingers.

He has Zayn lean against the window, leaving him there as he heads into the bathroom to grab some lube. It's his first view of deeper into the apartment, and Liam laughs when he realizes Zayn's not as neat and tidy as his living room portrays him to be. His bathroom counter alone is jumble of boxes and bottles and things that really don't belong - who keeps a small collection sharpies in their bathroom? 

He makes his way back to Zayn only to see his neighbor leaning against the window, palms flat on the glass’ and ass sticking out like a fucking present. Liam wants to know just how hard his hand can bounce off of it. 

Later, of course. 

He crowds in behind Zayn, leaving a soft kiss behind his ear as he uncaps the lube. “You ready?” He slides his first lube-covered finger inside and isn’t met with much resistance. He thinks he knows why, but still plays dumb, humming curiously as he slowly thrusts the digit in and out. “What’s this, pup?” 

“Um, I… I may have,” his voice breaks, and through his reflection in the window, Liam can see Zayn’s lower lip being abused by his teeth, his eyes drifting towards the grass below them as he stumbles his way through an explanation. “I think I - ”

“You  _ think _ ,” Liam laughs. “You mean you don’t know?” 

“No, I… I know.” Around Liam’s finger, Zayn clenches tightly. “I got myself off earlier.”

“How many fingers?” 

Liam traces the rim of Zayn’s hole with a second finger, but doesn’t push in, only waits as Zayn takes in a shaky breath. A few beats pass before he’s confessing, “Two.” Liam slides his second finger in as a reward and Zayn relaxes into it, hands sliding uselessly against the glass, gripping for something to hold onto as Liam stretches his two fingers apart. 

"This isn't as comfortable as you thought, is it?” He asks when he feels feet shifting in front of him “It'd be much better off in your bed, where I could spread you out and take my sweet time - pay attention to every inch of your body. Hit all your sweet spots and make you come undone." His spare hand reaches up and pinches Zayn’s left nipple, making the other boy squeeze around his fingers. "But you kept inviting your little friend over just so he'd fuck you where I could see. Needed to put on a show, didn't you?"

Zayn’s shaking his head, a fervent denial of Liam’s accusation, but he’s forced to stop with a keen when Liam pulls his head back by his hair.

"Don't lie to me, puppy,” he says. He’s working hard to keep his voice even, not wanting to give away just how fucking hot Zayn’s desperation is making him. “I saw it happen. I watched as he fucked you, getting you off but not getting you where you needed to be. You were too busy being a slut for my attention that you ended up disappointed when he couldn’t give you what you needed." 

Zayn whines, and Liam watches as one of his hands slowly starts sliding from the window. It’s almost unnoticeable, the way he makes it look like it’s just the sweat on his palms making him slide, but he makes a trail to his dick, and Liam smirks. Zayn thinks he’s being subtle, but when he’s moments from making contact, Liam drops his free hand from Zayn’s hair and wraps his hand around his wrist, pulling it away and slamming their hands back on the window, his much larger and nearly crushing in its grip. Zayn cries out, his dick visibly twitching. 

"Careful what you wish for, pup,” Liam teases. “You wanted my attention, and now you've got it." 

He continues the movements of his fingers, a third tracing the outside, getting ready to push in. When Zayn tries pushing back onto it, Liam scoffs to avoid giving in. He has to keep up his image, has to keep the words coming, his tone bored, because it’s getting Zayn off like nothing he’s ever seen before. 

"I'm almost insulted you don't trust me to get you off. Do you think I can't do it? That I don't know exactly what you need?" Liam sounds patronizing, but it works as Zayn shakes his head. "I know, pup, I know. I know when you need a bit more in your greedy little hole," he shoves the third finger in and Zayn’s jaw drops, his hands grasping at nothing on the window. "I know when you need to be held in place," he tightens his grip on Zayn’s wrist, pushing against his sudden pull, "because you don't know how to control yourself.” 

He can tell his words are getting to Zayn, the sheen of sweat covering his body and shaky inhales he’s making the number one give away. It’s hot in more ways than one, and Liam thinks if he doesn’t fuck Zayn soon he’s going to suffocate in the tension twisted around them. 

Zayn’s on his toes, ass sloped in the air, chasing the feeling of Liam’s fingers. Liam understands exactly what he needs. 

“And I know when a selfish little slut needs to be punished." He pulls his hand away from Zayn’s wrist and slams his hand against the ass grinding on his fingers. Zayn cries out, falling deeper into the window and his muscles tense, compressing Liam’s fingers together.

There’s a whimper, and at first it just sounds like breathing, but Liam soon realizes the the breathless mumbles falling from Zayn’s lips are asking for, "more, more, more." And Liam can only laugh. 

"Can't give you more right now, pup." He runs his hand softly through Zayn’s fringe, making the man somehow sigh and whine all at once. "I know how hard up you are for a spanking, and if I gave in, I wouldn’t be very good at keeping control, would I?" 

Zayn nods, head bobbing furiously where it’s pressed against the steadily fogging glass. "You would be. You’re so good to me." 

Liam laughs, running his hand down to Zayn’s neck delicately. "Cute." Zayn whines again, but Liam shuts him up by driving a fourth finger in, some force with it accompanying his biting, " _ But wrong _ ." 

Just when Zayn starts to relax into the movements, to be good and take what Liam’s giving him, his hand twitches and Liam has to slam his own against it just as it pulls away from the window. 

"Stop trying to be naughty,” he demands, voice low and teeth scraping lightly against his earlobe. “I like to think I'm being nice right now by even touching you at all. I could have left you all alone again, to have a sad wank against your front door because you can't find anyone willing rough up a slutty little pup like you." 

Zayn cries out, his cock twitching again at the words. Liam thinks if he were to touch him even once it’d be game over. 

“I’ve barely even started, pup, and you’re already a mess. Do I even need to get my dick in you or are you going to cum too fast like the eager slut you are?” 

Zayn coughs out a sob, shaking his head almost too quickly. “I need it,” he begs. “I need it, I need it.” 

Instead of furthering his teasing, of prolonging the inevitable, Liam slides his fingers out, wiping them on the thigh of his denim jeans before using those same fingers to pull down his zipper and strip himself of them. Zayn’s whimpering against the glass, arching his back just the slightest bit, almost like he’s presenting his ass for Liam to take. 

And take he does. 

Once he’s stripped of his clothes, and wearing the condom that's been tucked into his back pocket the entire night, he steps up behind Zayn, palms grasping at his hips. Zayn gasps at the contact, leaning more heavily against the window. Liam’s not even inside him yet, but he’s already a beautiful, docile mess. 

When Liam fits his cock against Zayn’s entrance, he opens right up, sighing as Liam slides in, revelling in the tight, wet heat of it all. 

When he bottoms out, it’s with a groan, his head falling tensely on Zayn’s shoulder as Zayn’s nails bite indents into his own palms. Together, they stay still for a moment, allowing themselves time to adjust - it’s too good,  _ painfully _ good, and Liam’s not sure he could last if he picked up his pace right away - Zayn himself looks moments away from finishing. 

It starts with a slow glide, Liam pulling back until only the head is inside, and then pushing in completely. Zayn’s mouth drops opens in a sigh and his eyes go to the ceiling, unfocused and glazed. Liam trails his left thumb over Zayn’s flushed cheek, allowing it to dip down, scraping at his jaw line. It serves to have him clenching around Liam’s dick, Liam’s hips stuttering in response. 

He keeps his pace slow - well, as slow as he can with how worked up he already is. Though as he’s taking his time, that doesn’t mean he’s being gentle. Each time he brings their hips together, it’s with force, a harsh grip on Zayn’s hip as their skin slaps together. 

There’s sweat pooling at the base of Zayn’s spine, Liam’s right hand almost sliding off of where it’s glued to the back of his hip. The room is stuffy and the glass is clouded over, and Liam feels like every time he blinks, there’s a new drop of sweat on his eyelashes.

It’s all  _ slick _ and  _ hot _ and  _ tight _ , and Liam’s in heaven.

It only gets better when Zayn gasps suddenly, something broken and urgent. His hand peels from the window, making Liam’s fall, and slams forward with a  _ pound _ . His nails attempt to dig into the glass, but only slip. His ass tightens deliciously and Liam can’t help but slam forward with it, letting a few thrusts land brutally. 

Zayn sobs with it. “ _ There _ ,” he cries, voice weepy and eyes unfocused, “ _ more _ .” And Liam suddenly knows what’s he gone and hit. He keeps the angle, not pausing his movements as he gives it to Zayn, revelling in the broken, cut-off gasps he gives, struggling to get enough air in with the unforgiving pace Liam sets, not letting up, not wanting to when Zayn sobbing is his favorite song.

Without Liam’s hand stopping him from moving, Zayn’s hand starts to slip again, to walk the familiar, forbidden trail to his cock. 

“I don’t know what you think your doing with your naughty little paws, but I know you aren’t about to touch yourself, are you?”

“Touch me,” Zayn begs, not even denying what he was doing, but placing his hand back where it was before. “Please, please, just touch me.” 

And Liam could easily wrap his hand around Zayn’s dick, get him off with a few rough strokes, but he knows that’s not what’s going to really  _ wreck _ him. It’s the Harry way out, and Liam’s here to prove he can be the best Zayn’s ever had. 

“See, I don’t know if I should give you want,” Liam says, his words coming out through pants, even as his hips slow to move glacially compared to where they were and what he knows will bring them both to the edge. Zayn cries more, louder, and tries to reach up to pull his own hair, but Liam puts their hands back on the window. “You’re still not getting it, are you? Your hair is mine, your dick is mine, this hole is mine,” he thrusts once, particularly hard, then goes back to his slow pace. “You’re  _ mine _ , and I don’t think you’ve behaved enough to come.” 

Zayn falls forward and starts crying, full-body sobs getting out the frustration that’s building up. 

“Let it all out, puppy.” Liam runs his hands through Zayn’s fringe again, taking a moment to comfort the weepy boy, before getting back at it, ready to start heading for the end. 

He picks up his pacing, faster, harsher this time around, enjoying the slick heat of Zayn’s ass squeezing around his prick like it’s trying to milk him for everything he has - and he doesn’t doubt that it will. 

It takes moments before Zayn’s on his toes, fingernails clawing at nothing but the slippery surface in front of them. He’s right on the edge, and instead of letting him get there on his own, Liam raises his left hand and brings it down repeatedly on Zayn’s ass, not stopping until his palm is numb from tingling and Zayn cums, painting the inside of the window with his release. His muscles seize around Liam’s cock and it takes the breath from his lungs. 

When Zayn finishes, he drops, legs giving out completely. 

Liam goes down with him, still fucking him, running his hands through Zayn’s hair, comforting the man as he chases his own climax. “Seems you made a mess, pup,” he comments when they’re eye level to the cum drying on the glass. “What would you do if I made you clean that up right now?” 

“Oh god, oh  _ god _ ” he’s hiccupping through his tears but he’s clenching tightly, and Liam’s nearly there. 

“Fuck, pup,” he groans. “Keep doing that, I’m - ” 

He maintains his pace, but it’s tough in this position and he needs better, so he carefully guides Zayn’s upper body forward, bending him in half, and has him brace himself on the floor. Zayn immediately falls forward and Liam has to hold his hips to keep him from stretching himself across the hardwood. 

Zayn takes a deep breath and then he’s arching, the squeeze of his ass around Liam’s throbbing dick. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” He thrusts a few last times, spanking Zayn thrice, just to feel him tighten - which he does expertly - and then Liam’s coming. He sees white and wildflowers and the crinkles by Zayn's eyes when he comes across a puppy on the sidewalk, and then he's gone. 

It takes a minute to catch his breath, and then he's pulling out, removing the condom and falling next to Zayn. He’s fucking  _ exhausted _ , and he doesn't know if he can even speak - he sure as fuck can't move. Zayn makes a measly groan, and Liam laughs through his panting. As much as he set out to wreck Zayn, which he definitely did, he wasn't aware that Zayn would wreck him just as much.

It's exhilarating to think of what the future has in store for them if their first time was the best Liam's ever had. 

Zayn's back is still arched, still shaking in the stiff position, so Liam slowly pulls him out of it and into his waiting arms until they're both curled up together on the hardwood floor looking out the filthy window. 

“How do you feel, pup?” Liam asks when he collects himself enough to make a full sentence. His hand slowly traces a path down Zayn's body, fingertips light as they try and commit his skin to memory. 

“Don’t fucking - ” Zayn’s hands reach out to slap Liam away when he gets too close to his most likely still sensitive dick, and Liam laughs at the exasperation. “I can’t feel the lower half of my body.”

Liam laughs even harder at the indignation in his tone. “And that’s just the first time.”

Zayn groans, his head falling back against Liam's shoulder. “I'm going to have to start jogging to keep up with you.”

“Or we could do yoga together.” 

“That’s not exercise that’s  _ foreplay _ ,” he whispers, voice nearly a moan. 

And maybe he's right, but then again, Zayn's never done a single thing that hasn't had Liam turned on beyond belief. And as he said before, this is only the beginning. 

⇆

As many times as Zayn tells Liam he’s superhuman, that he can do it all, Liam’s  _ really _ lacking on his best friend duties. 

It’s half past ten, and they’re nearly a half an hour late to breakfast with Louis and Harry. As often as Liam sees Louis at school, they don’t get much free time, both caught up in their jobs and relationships. 

It’s fine, they assure each other regularly. There’s nothing wrong with having lives separate from each other. They weren’t exactly attached at the hip in the first place, so the fact that they’re a bit distanced isn’t a big deal at all. Usually that’s enough to make him feel better, but today he knows he’s not winning any ‘Friend of the Year’ awards. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Liam apologizes as the two pour themselves in the empty seats across from Louis and Harry. “It was a long week, so we slept in.”

Louis takes in their disheveled appearances and immediately begins laughing. He turns to Harry with amused eyes. “Translation: they were up too late fucking and need some recovery time this morning.” Zayn blushes as soon as the words fall from Louis' mouth. 

“ _ Louis _ \- ”

Liam’s protest is cut of when Louis shrugs. “It’s  _ fine _ ,” he insists. “We’re an open group. We share our kinks and stories, and we don’t feel any shame.” 

For all that it’s true, it’s still weird to think about, let alone discuss openly before they’ve even ordered food. 

“Hey!” Harry yells suddenly, pulling everyone’s attention on him. He gestures between himself and Zayn. “We used to sleep together! Have you two ever?” Instead of flushing like Liam expects, Zayn suddenly looks immensely interested in the conversation. 

“Never,” Liam scoffs. 

“You don’t have to be rude about it.” 

Liam stares at Louis in disbelief for a moment before turning to Harry. “The first time we met,” he starts, and already Louis' rolling his eyes, “he threw up all over me and called me hefty.” 

“Of course you’d be insulted,” Zayn scoffs, and Liam’s neck nearly snaps with how hard he jerks to glare at Zayn. Louis and Harry are laughing in the background - Louis just a bit harder than his boyfriend - and Liam feels betrayed. 

“Excuse me?” He laughs once, shortly. “I’m  _ built _ , not hefty.”

“And I’m sure that’s important to you,” Zayn says, voice patronizing and eyes dancing in the light. “But it’s just not that impressive.”

Louis' laughing kicks up another notch and Zayn looks proud of himself for evoking such a reaction. As hot as Liam finds the cockiness, he can’t let it stand, so he leans in closer, and drops his voice low. “Was I unimpressive last night when I had you screaming for the whole city to hear?”

“ _ Liam _ .” Zayn’s squirming, his face turning red as he glances at their friends hesitantly. 

“Or when I ate you out this morning and you  _ cried _ as you begged to cum?” he continues, the filth falling easily from his tongue. “Was I unimpressive then, pup?” 

“ _ Alright _ ,” Louis' voice, laced in disgust, cuts through their moment, interrupting Zayn’s soft moan. “You’re both gross. Let’s order before I throw up all over Liam again.”

Louis picks up his menu and blocks his view of them, but Liam’s has to laugh. He’s too happy to feel any shame, too happy to sit silently and not enjoy every moment of his wonderfully chaotic life. 

Especially when Zayn bites his lip, and then bites Liam’s, right in the middle of the restaurant.

  
  



End file.
